The Living Side of the Grave
by SporkDeMortimer
Summary: Spade finds his true love not in Denise, but in Lia, a girl living in England in the 1800's. The past comes back to haunt them both, and they must conquer it together.
1. Chapter 1

**So here you are, Night Huntress lovers: a fic of Spade and what would have happened if he found his soul mate in mid-19th century England instead. I've had it in my head for a while and just recently decided to type it up. Hope you enjoy!**

**It's got a lot of ideas taken from the Sherlock Holmes movies, since when I thought of this, they had just come out. No copyright infringement intended, all characters and other story ideas that are not my own are owned by Jeaniene Frost or those people from the movies.**

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><p>He was just beginning to think this whole job was a wild goose chase. Spade had been here for hours, trying to figure out why the hell Mencheres had sent him. "I need a sum of money recovered," he'd said. Yeah, sure. Spade had been here for hours and he'd seen nothing but solid stone corridors and the occasional errant guard.<p>

Spade's boots tapped on the floors as he walked. As far as he knew, the building was some offices for a bank. It was placed upon a beautiful hillside, forest surrounding. What offices were doing here, he had no idea, but it certainly wasn't his idea of a fun night. If not for his sire, he'd be back in the city, in bed, probably someone else's.

He reached a pale, thin hand into his waistcoat pocket. He clicked open his watch and found that it was nearly midnight. Nearly all the guards must have gone home now. And yet, faintly, he heard voices. The building plan was huge and complex and he knew that for a tone to reach his sensitive ears that weakly, it had to be miles away.

Spade stopped and listened. He turned toward the noises, and began to walk in their direction. He might as well start somewhere. As he grew closer, the volume increased. He could almost make out the words. They were male, and seemed to be taunting something. Or someone. He heard laughter, and a weak whisper. His pace quickened. He would be damned if he let another being go through what Giselda had-

A long, agonized scream cut into his head. It was the sound he had been waiting for and dreading. He began to sprint, and the screams quieted until there was nothing but more laughs and a few hushed cries.

As he approached the source of the noises, he slowed, quieting his footsteps. A figure was silhouetted in the moonlight, dressed in a workman's trousers, waistcoat, and shirtsleeves. It had a shabby hat covering its hair. It was hovering, but not in the grace of a vampire. The form was curled in on itself, hands wrapped around something.

Swiftly, the profile was jerked up and its head was thrown back. Another tormented shout tore through the room, and the hat fell back, releasing a torrent of dark blonde hair, almost brown.

It was a woman. They were torturing a woman, a hook stabbed into her shoulder. Anger surged through Spade, and he entered the room just as the human in the middle of it was lowered, then tugged up again. Her screams seared his ears and brought back images of that awful day, when he'd found Giselda. In the direct light, he saw the feminine form under the men's clothing and that the woman was barely a teenage girl.

Spade assessed the room. There were two human men with their feet planted firmly on the ground. One was holding the other end of a rope which was slung over a rafter and holding the girl up, and the other was sitting in a luxurious wing-backed chair, smoking. Neither looked like much of a threat. He went for the one with the rope first, bringing out one of his long, lethal knives, severing the man's spinal cord and throat in one movement. The line went slack in his hands, and Spade turned quickly in order to catch the fallen girl. He set her on the floor and felt her blood on his hands as he whirled and faced the one with the cigar. The bloodstained knife flew out of his hand and landed in the man's chest. The tip of his cigar glowed intensely as he took his last breath. Spade spun and knelt next to the girl.

The girl seemed tiny, too young to have this much blood spilling from her. Spade had hesitations about healing her instantly with his own blood, and ripped a strip from his jacket sleeve to try to staunch the bleeding. The wound was too far up her arm to make a proper tourniquet. It was only when he'd gotten her waistcoat open that he paid attention to her face. She was staring up at him, eyes wide with terror.

"Wh-" for a second she seemed to be about to say "who," then she stopped. "What are you?"

"Baron Charles DeMortimer, but you can call me Spade."

"Natalia Helena Rose Lexington. But you can call me Lia." Her voice was wracked with pain.

"That's quite a mouthful, Lia. Care to tell me how you got in this situation?"

"Care to tell me how you'll get me out of it?"

"You'll have to say how you were planning on getting out of it in the first place." The blood was still spreading. Spade grasped the wrist on her injured arm and pulled it to the opposite shoulder. Lia arched slightly and gave a small scream.

He tore another strip from his sleeve and bound the wrist tightly to her body until it was nearly immobile.

"A…train. Coming in…" she glanced at Spade's watch. "Ten minutes. On the track at the edge of the forest."

"Let's hurry, then."

"Wait. There was another one. He ran."

Spade swore. This would complicate things. He got Lia to her feet. "Can you stand?"

She nodded. Already, Spade could hear the pounding of footsteps behind them. He looked around and scanned the room and found another door. He kicked it open and helped Lia stumble through. "C'mon. We haven't got much time if we're to get that train in ten minutes."

The cold England air blasted them as they entered the forest. Lia shivered, and they began to run. Spade tried to let Lia go on her own, though he could hear voices and the chatter of a machine gun strafing the trees. Without warning, he reached over and, with one hand, covered Lia's mouth, and with the other, raised her onto his back. He ran faster, but it wasn't good enough. The trees were in his way, the guns too close. Finally, fearing for Lia, he dropped into a small hollow behind a tree. She protested, but he cut her off.

"I'm going back to see if I can get some of them off our track. Stay here, but run if you hear the train."

Spade took off in the opposite direction without checking for her assent. He began to fly, rising up over the trees and searching for the gun-wielding guards. He spotted them, small, dark smears under the shadowy green pines. Spade waited, then at exactly the right time, he dove and grabbed one in each hand. They screamed as he threw each of them into the sharp branches, then went silent.

The others stood mutely for a second. One backed up a step, and the stillness was broken. The guards scattered. Spade heard the train approaching, and saw what he hoped was Lia running towards the noise. Her movement caught another eye, though, and he paused in his thrashing of a guard just in time to watch one of the men pull a grenade out of his pocket.

Spade dropped the bloodied man and got a grasp on the back of the other just as the grenade left his hand. A huge explosion suddenly shuddered through the forest; a few fires broke out among the trees. Spade ran through the smoke and searched frantically for Lia. He found her, nearly unconscious, a few feet ahead. A hole was burned through the back of the shirt on the opposite shoulder as the bleeding one and Spade could see raw, glistening flesh through the smoldering fabric.

He mentally cursed Mencheres. Lia groaned and tried to get up. Spade grabbed her roughly and continued to run to the train as it gained speed. At last, they reached the last car. Lia rolled onto the floor and Spade tugged himself up next to her. She let out a deep breath and shut her eyes tightly.

"Come on. You can't sleep yet." He said. Spade pulled her into his lap and removed her destroyed waistcoat. She moaned quietly at the movement.

When he had torn rents in the cloth near her wounds, Spade set to work at cleaning them. He wasn't sure why he didn't just slash his own skin open and let himself heal her. And so he painstakingly cleared her burn of dirt and twigs; he blotted the blood away from her skin. She was conscious again when he turned her over.

"How old are you?"

His question came out of nowhere. "Seventeen, eighteen in a few months," she answered. "You?"

He went with the easy answer. "Twenty-three."

Lia winced as he pulled a pine needle from her shoulder. She was too light, too thin in his arms for a seventeen year old. He tried not to notice how her body seemed to yearn to be curvy, as if all it needed was a bit of food and she'd be one of the most enticing women he'd ever seen. Even smeared with blood, her face was beautiful and angular.

"Where're we going?" he asked.

"16 Montague Street, Whitechapel."

"That's a nasty bit of town. You're sure about it?"

"It's where I live."

"How'd you end up here, anyway?"

"Writing an article for the _Chronicle_, are you?"

"Wouldn't dare to get my name in that bloody rag. My mates would never let me live it down."

Lia laughed quietly. Her eyelids slipped shut and she returned to unconsciousness.

шшшшшшшшшшшшшшшшшшшшшшшш

Spade had a bit of trouble finding a cab driver who would go into Whitechapel. Add that to Lia slung over his shoulder, and it was nearly bloody impossible. Finally, he green-eyed one and told him the address. The man acquiesced without complaint, and they pulled up to a shabby-looking three-story house.

"Lia," Spade said, waking her, "is this it?"

She blinked blearily, looked up, and nodded.

"Right then," he said, opening the carriage door. He nodded at the driver. "Thanks, mate." Spade handed him a pound note. The driver stared at it, then grinned and pocketed the money.

With Lia once again over his shoulder, Spade made his way to the front door of number 16. A few small, emaciated children poked their heads out of doors, and one woman gave them a funny look.

"Drunk 'imself pissed last night, luv," he said in her direction. She took the explanation and his faked East End accent and disappeared back inside her own home, taking the children with her. Spade walked up to the front door of the larger house and knocked on the door. After a few moments, a maid appeared.

"'Ello, sir. Can I do somethin' for you?"

"I believe I have something that belongs to you," Spade said, taking Lia off his arm. The maid gasped.

"Miss Lia! Oh, thank you, sir, we've all been wracked with worry, come in, come in! Is there something the matter with 'er?"

"Let's just get her upstairs. I can explain then."

"Very well, then, and I'll get Mr. Mason. Go up to the second floor, third door on the left."

Spade looked at the interior of the house. It was sparsely furnished, with an old, cracked armchair and a small table in the center of the room. The walls were damp stone, the ceilings were low, and candles were the only source of light. There was a door through which the maid disappeared, presumably leading to the dining room or kitchen. A narrow staircase led up on the right side of the room and disappeared into the ceiling.

He started up the stairs, feeling the worn wood bend under his and Lia's combined weight. The hallway he entered at top was lined with doors. Spade entered the third door he found, which was marked with an L made of old bits of wood from the docks.

The room inside was cold and dark. It was extremely small, with an old cot, piled with blankets, pushed up against one wall and a cracked washbasin in the corner. A little shard of a mirror was propped up against the basin. Tracks of water were trailing down the stone walls.

Lia groaned as Spade set her on her side on the cot. She was supported on both sides by the piles of worn blankets. "Spade," she whispered, "How bad are they?"

He didn't know what to say. Over a hundred years alive, and he didn't know what to say to an adolescent, poor girl with two bleeding, open wounds.

"Not too bad. They'll heal eventually."

"Good," she sighed, "'Cause they hurt like hell."

There was a knock on the door then, and a fatherly, slightly overweight man walked into the room. He saw Lia lying on her bed and his eyes widened. The man, most likely Mr. Mason, gave orders to the maid.

"Go heat a basin of water and get some old linen. Tell Cook to bring up her poultice."

"But Mr. Mason, the coal budget…"

"Nevermind the coal, go get that water." His eyes fell upon Spade. "Who are you?"

"Charles DeMortimer. I met your girl here at the old bank offices in the woods. Any idea what she was doing there?"

Mr. Mason took Spade to the corner of the tiny room. "Mr. DeMortimer, let me explain to you what we do here. We make a living off the crimes and victims of this god-forsaken city. People come to us and we help them. A couple weeks ago, a man came to us, saying he needed to find a certain Mr. Baker, who was a retired banker. Lia is our most competent operative, so we gave her this job."

"You're a private investigation agency."

"In essence, yes." The maid entered with the supplies, and Mr. Mason turned to her. "Get some tea for Mr. DeMortimer here, then start dressing Miss Lia's wounds."

The maid bobbed and made to turn to Spade to ask his preference in teas.

But Spade was already gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: One "quid" is a pound, which is a very large amount of money when this story takes place, especially in Whitechapel. Also, "guv" is short for "governor," which means something like "boss" or "sir."**

"Mate, just go see her if you're going to mope around like this!"

Spade sighed in the general direction of his best friend, Crispin. He'd been invited for a few drinks at the local pub. Of course, since there was no such thing as getting drunk for a vampire, there wasn't much point to it.

It was nearly a month since he'd dropped Lia off at her run-down house and he couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't doing well. The thought kept him from laughing along with Crispin. The other vampire had noticed and nearly shaken the story out of him. When he'd suggested that Spade try to contact Mencheres about the money he'd said there was, Spade shook his head. He'd tried to get a hold of Mencheres, but every time he was close, the Egyptian slipped away somehow.

"Maybe I should."

"Maybe! Really, Charles, just go and see her tomorrow! It'll make you feel better to see that she's probably forgotten all about you and is back fighting that dirty Whitechapel crime!"

Spade nodded, then said his goodbyes to Crispin and headed home. He walked through the thick carpeting of his Manchester mansion, fed, and went upstairs to his bedchamber. His clothing discarded on the floor, he slipped between his silk sheets and tried to sleep.

Spade had slept for only two hours when he woke up at 6:00 the next morning. Feeling terribly bleary, he dressed and called for Alten.

"Saddle my horse, please."

Alten nodded and left without question. A few minutes later, he reappeared. "She's ready, Sire."

"Thank you." Spade swung his cloak over his shoulders, strode out the front door, and found his magnificent grey mare, Riptide, waiting. He mounted and set off through the London streets. Carriage drivers yelled at him, but he rode on. Riptide's muddy hooves pounded the dirty roads as he broke through the traffic and began the long ride to Whitechapel.

It was a few hours before it began to rain. The droplets ran down Spade's cloak and onto Riptide's coat. She snorted and tossed her head, glad for the cooling water.

It was about ten o'clock in the morning when he arrived at the old house he'd last seen a month ago. Spade tied up his horse on the banister and knocked on the door. The same maid opened it, looking haggard and distraught.

"Mr. DeMortimer," she said, "How nice to see you."

"You as well, Ms…?" He ended with a question.

"You can call me Addie, sir."

"Very well, Addie. Is Lia in?"

"Oh, Mr. DeMortimer, I'm terribly afraid to say…"

A wave of dread crashed over him. "She's all right, isn't she?"

Addie's voice hushed. "She's poorly, sir. The wounds became septic. The fever won't go down. The doctor's not expecting her to last much longer. He says maybe a day." Her voice cracked and Spade caught her before she collapsed, sobbing.

"Addie, calm down a bit. Is Mr. Mason allowing visitors?"

"I don't know, sir. It's just… Miss Lia and I grew up together." She sniffled into his shoulder.

"Let me go talk to Mr. Mason. I'll see what I can do."

Addie disengaged herself from him and entered the house. Spade followed her through the damp parlor and up through the old stairs. There he saw Mr. Mason, thinner than the last time he'd seen him, pacing outside of the closed door, the one marked with an L.

"Mr. Mason, Mr. DeMortimer's here to see you."

Spade approached the man. He saw that his face was streaked with tears and his hands were shaking.

"May I go see her?"

He became inexplicably defensive. "Why? What do you want with a dying girl? We can't afford to lose her, she's like my own daughter, oh, and the doctor's bills, oh, how will we ever-"

"Mr. Mason."

"What? Oh, yes, go in."

Spade turned from the poor man and slowly entered the room. It was dark and cold, not at all the right conditions for a sick girl. Lia was pale among her blankets, lying on her side. A sheen of sweat covered her. The two wounds were terribly infected. The bandages on her back were tinged green and black along with the red of the blood; her shoulder was completely uncovered and had a foul scent. He closed the door behind him.

Spade approached her, taking in the sight of her dirty hair and cracked, bleeding lips. He set a gentle hand upon her forehead and felt the terrible heat emanating from her, but still she was burrowed into her cot and shivering.

Lia let out a small moan as Spade turned her onto her back, supporting her with a forearm. He raised his other hand to his mouth and ripped into the skin in his wrist. Blood immediately flowed forward. Spade held his wrist against her lips, which, dry as bone, opened at once.

After a few swallows, his skin began to heal. He slit it open again. Lia's eyes opened and widened as she recognized him. She tried to turn her head away, but he held her still.

"Drink," he whispered to her. "It'll help." Her eyes drifted shut again.

Already, the skin that had been burned away was restored; the gash on her front was sealing over. Spade reached one hand around to her back and removed the disgusting bandage. He could feel the overwhelming heat receding from her body as she relaxed further into the cot.

Finally, he removed his wrist from her mouth. Even the cracks that had torn through her lips had healed. Spade stood and let Lia sink back into the blankets.

He emerged into the hallway. Mr. Mason and Addie were still standing there anxiously. "Is she…gone?" Addie whispered, her voice trembling.

"Far from it. Go and see her." Spade said. The two entered the miniscule space. After a second, Spade heard Addie crying and Mr. Mason's exclamation of joy.

"Lia! How is this possible? Just a few moments ago-"

"It was Spade," she said quietly.

"Spade? You mean Mr. DeMortimer?" An instant later, Mr. Mason came out. "How did you do this? Never mind that, what can we ever do to repay you?"

"No payment is necessary, Mr. Mason. Unless…"

"What? I'll do anything."

"Let me work with Lia on her assignments."

Mr. Mason hesitated. "Why on earth would you want that?"

"I want to know that she is safe."

"All right. You can stay here if you like."

"That would be excellent. I can pay room and board."

Mr. Mason looked relieved at the aspect of compensation. "All right. Shall we go downstairs and let Addie and Lia get cleaned up?"

The two men descended the creaky stairs and entered the kitchen. Mr. Mason made Spade a cup of tea and they drank in silence for a few minutes.

There was knock at the front door and Spade got up to answer it. Standing at the door was an unwashed, grungy man. "Doctor sent me," he grunted. "'E says you'll 'ave a body for me to bring to the mortuary."

"That won't be necessary."

"But 'e said 'e'd give me two quid if I did it-"

"Here." Spade pressed two notes into the man's hand.

He stared at them. "Ta, guv!"

Spade shut the door and walked back to the kitchen. He poured himself a new cup of tea and found a thin woman working at the stove. She turned to Spade.

"I heard you're the one who saved Miss Lia. Gotta say thanks. We all owe you."

"I was happy to do it. May I ask who you are?"

"Cook. Easier just to keep it at that." Her Irish lilt tainted her words.

A second later, the kitchen door opened and Addie walked in, accompanied by a radiant Lia.

In the space of a few seconds, Spade found himself mesmerized by the first time he'd seen Lia perfectly healthy. Though her body still held that quality of near-curviness, Spade noticed how her hair, now clean and dark brown from the water, tumbled down to her lower back. He also noticed that though glowing skin was impossible in Whitechapel, where the sun never shone and there was almost no such thing as clean water, Lia's got pretty damn close.

This he gathered in about three seconds, by which time Cook was sitting Lia down across from him and bringing her a cup of hot, strong tea. Spade watched as she raised the cup to her lips and looked at him questioningly over the rim. He knew what she wanted to know. She wanted to know who he was and how he'd healed her, but she wouldn't get the answers. Not until he knew who she was and if he could trust her fully.

"I'm going downstairs after I eat," Lia said suddenly. She shot Spade a look. He was coming with her.

"What's downstairs?"

"Our training room and cells."

Spade nodded and inspected the room around him as Cook brought Lia a small plate of steaming food. She wolfed it down, grabbed his sleeve, and dragged him down the hidden trapdoor at the base of the stairs. They entered a narrow corridor and Lia led the way, holding a small lantern. They passed one doorway, which Lia explained led to the cells, and entered a tiny room, barely larger than Lia's own room, which held a few weights and a large sandbag hanging from the ceiling.

"Did you enjoy your breakfast?" Spade asked.

"Hardly. If it was good, there wouldn't have been enough of it on that plate."

"Then why do you keep her?"

"She's indebted to Mr. Mason and insists upon paying it off this way. We don't have to pay her, she's a reasonable healer, and what she makes is edible." There was a pause, then, "Speaking of reasonable healers…"

Spade sighed. He knew this was coming.

"Was it your blood that healed me?"

"I'll answer that question later."

"How much later?"

"When we've worked on your assignment of this Mr. Baker."

Lia sighed and gave the sandbag a hit. "I heard you're staying here. For how long?"

"Until I know you're safe."

"Do you really care about me that much? Are you willing to leave your obviously rich life for the worst of England? The slums where at least one child dies a week and whores and criminals foul the streets? This is where I live, Spade, and you'd better be prepared for it."

"Oh, I am, Lia. Better than you can possibly imagine."


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the lack of updates, that is, if anyone's reading… haven't gotten any reviews. I've been in NYC without my computer for a few days. We've got a new POV, today, Lia! (and the "nick" is slang for "prison.")**

I woke up in that room again. The tiny little chamber that made me feel horrid and claustrophobic, with the uncomfortable, stiff cot that still hadn't been cleaned from my infection. Got to remember to change those blankets today.

Addie knocked on my door, rousing me for another nearly inedible breakfast, and I rose with a groan and walked to my closet that was narrower than our chimney.

I dressed in my only clean clothing, a worn grey frock that had once been blue. Really, it was my only presentable clothing at the moment, seeing as I had one other dress in my wardrobe, the ball gown I used for undercover jobs. And I couldn't be going around in my common household attire, seeing as we had a guest.

Yes. The guest. The one who somehow managed to kill two men with the same knife and then heal my own mortal wounds with his blood. Go figure.

Mr. Mason had placed him on the third floor, which we reserved for guests or clients. Addie had spent an entire day cleaning the dust and cobwebs from the room, changing and boiling the sheets, beating out the threadbare rugs. I'd helped her, though neither Spade nor Mr. Mason knew it.

I stuck my hands into the water that Addie had filled my basin with and splashed my face, then dried off with my skirt and pulled my hair back into a braid. I took a few precious pins from atop my wardrobe and French braided both sides of my hair into two, then wrapped the plaits tightly over each other to create a bun. I had no ribbon to secure it, so I stabbed a few pins through the hair.

With a sigh of relief, I exited that awful room and ran down the stairs to the kitchen. Mr. Mason and Spade were already there. For a second, I felt very conscious of my shabby dress and old hairstyle, then shook it off and sat down across from them. Our other operatives were filtering slowly into the kitchen, blearily cursing Addie. There were only four of them.

Bennie, a small boy of about ten, was an orphan who had come to our door a couple months ago. He was still learning and had yet to go on a job. I saw Sid, who was a bit older than me. I think he was a relative of Mr. Mason's. Then there was Charlie, a handsome boy who was around thirteen years of age and would make many girls swoon if he lived long enough. Seamus came in with his hair messy enough for Cook to start shouting at him. He was fifteen and nobody, not even Mr. Mason, I think, knew how he got here.

They all sat around the small table in the kitchen, grimacing at Cook behind her back until she cuffed Sid on the side of the head. I noticed Spade didn't have a plate.

"Lia, you've got a job tomorrow." Mr. Mason said.

"Baker?"

"Yep. Bennie, you're going with her."

Bennie looked up at the sound of his name. "Really? Bloody hell, Mr. Mason! Thanks!" He ducked as Cook swatted at him.

Mr. Mason smiled wanly. "I'll give you two details once we're downstairs."

Chatter filled the room once more. I heard Charlie and Seamus talking about the girl that had just moved in down the street. Bennie ate the rest of his food without complaint, smiling broadly, his crooked teeth making him oddly adorable.

I stayed silent, already mourning the little boy that he was now and would never be again, after tomorrow.

As soon as the last person put their fork down, I walked silently downstairs with Spade, Mr. Mason and Bennie trailing behind. He said quietly, "You didn't eat."

"Neither did you."

"I did, before you came down. But you need to keep your strength up for tomorrow."

"Aren't you coming with us?"

"I'm not a substitute for you. These people trust you, Lia, not me. I can't just take your place. That's not what I'm here for."

We reached the training room. I separated myself from Spade. He was making me feel jittery.

Mr. Mason began without preamble. "We know Mr. Baker is attending the ball at Lord Burlingame's manor in Preston. Lia, you'll be with Mr. DeMortimer as a young couple. Bennie, we've got you in as a waiter. You'll have to keep at least Lia in sight at all times. Understand?"

Bennie nodded.

"Lia, you'll be needing your other dress, so get Addie to brush it down. Mr. DeMortimer…"

"It's all right, I've got my own clothing upstairs," Spade said smoothly.

"Mr. Mason, won't we need a carriage?"

"Yes, well…" he said uncomfortably. "I've been telling Cook to scrimp on the coal money. It won't be pretty, but it'll be faster than walking."

Scrimp? Even more than usual? I think "not pretty" was an understatement. When it came to the quality of carriages you could hire with that little money, things got downright ugly.

I switched the subject. "And what will we be trying to do?"

"Just information. Stay close to Baker and see if he reveals anything. No assassinations, do you hear me, Bennie?"

Bennie looked glum for a second. "Yes, Mr. Mason."

"Good. Get training."

The two men left the room. Bennie immediately went into his normal exercises. I went back up to my room to change into my usual attire. It was the kind of clothing that would shock anyone of any gender to see a lady wearing.

First came the trousers. They were loose, long leggings, castoffs of Sid's. A band of cloth went around my chest for security, and a white buttoned shirt over it with the sleeves rolled up. A tight grey waistcoat went over it. Usually, when training, I went barefoot.

I ran back down the stairs to the training room. Nobody batted an eye at my attire, not even Spade, who was talking with Mr. Mason in the hallway.

When I got back to the basement, Bennie was laboring over the weights. I went for the bag in the middle of the room. I remembered Ling, a boy who'd visited from China. He was the one who taught me how to fight. The graceful kicks, punches, and rolls I knew all came from Ling. I'd never seen him after that, but after he left, my opponents never saw the foreign tactics coming.

I practiced for a while with the bag until the tops of my feet were red and almost bruising and my knuckles were raw. Then I kept going, trying to convince myself that I wouldn't let Bennie be hurt tomorrow. After a while, it became apparent to me that Spade was standing at he doorway, watching.

After a last hard jump and kick that set the bag swaying, I turned to him. "What?"

"You're very good."

"Thanks. I've had some practice."

"I've got a friend who could help you with this. Your training."

I walked past him and he followed.

"I don't want him hurt." I said suddenly, stopping.

Spade stopped as well and turned me to face him. "There's not much you can do about that. You may fight like a storm, but he's going be on his own tomorrow."

"Can you do something?"

"I can do no more than you."

"Why not? You can do everything, Spade-"

"Not everything." His voice was low and pained.

I knew there was something bothering him. "What happened?"

"Ask me some other time."

"But-"

"No. I can't tell you," He snapped, and strode off.

I stood there against the wall, more curious than ever.

**Spade POV**

He shouldn't have snarled at her like that. She didn't deserve it. But her faith in him was disturbing, her trust. How could he let he believe that he could do everything when he couldn't even keep the woman he loved from being raped and beaten and murdered?

Spade thought about the job they would have tomorrow. He'd have to dance with Lia, no doubt be pestered with more questions about Giselda. Already he knew she was impossibly stubborn and wouldn't give this up until he told her.

He walked out of the front door, untied Riptide from the porch, and swung up into the saddle. He knew it was risky to keep a horse outside in Whitechapel with no security but a rope, but he also knew that even if she was stolen, the mare would find her way home. It was one of the reasons he'd chosen her.

Spade set off at a trot. Usually, when he was alone like this, his mind would drift to awful things like Giselda, but now, he thought of Lia. It was something he'd done a lot of lately. He noticed how she had one dress and strained to keep it clean, preferred to wear men's clothing, and spent as little time in her room as possible. She always wore her hair up in a braid or bun, but he'd seen her with it down once, aside from their first meeting in the woods. It was long and wavy and would be wonderful to tangle a hand in.

This thought brought him to thinking about how lovely she'd look in a new dress. Maybe royal blue or red. Then how much lovelier she'd look out of it.

He always cut off at this thought, otherwise he'd end up dragging her straight to his bed, new dress or not.

Riptide whinnied at a passing carthorse, whose owner swore and cracked his whip. Spade's acute eyes saw the prostitutes lurking in the alleys, eyeing the streets for someone just like him: male, alone, and rich.

Of course, he had nothing on him at the moment to signify his wealth, but the women knew it anyway. It was in the way he held himself, the quality of his plain clothing, the fine horse he rode.  
>He continued on, knowing exactly what Lia was talking about when she spoke of children and whores and thieves and murderers. They all lived here, the innocent and the corrupt living together, mixing until you don't know who's who.<p>

Spade decided he'd wasted enough time out here and turned back to the house on Montague Street. It was almost dinner, the second meal of the day, and though he didn't need food himself, he wanted to make sure Lia ate. She'd skipped breakfast already.

He tethered Riptide back outside the house and entered. Bennie and Charlie were playing jacks on the hard stone floor. Charlie looked up.

"'Ello, Mr. DeMortimer," he said brightly.

"Hello, Charlie, Bennie."

"Hi!" Bennie said happily.

Spade hung his coat on the rack next to the door and went to the kitchen. "Anything I can help with?"

Cook was standing over her stove, stirring a pot of stew. "If you could go to the basement and see if you 'an find a few potatoes, 'at would be lovely, dear."

Spade had learned over the past week that Cook called everyone dear, no matter what. He walked down to the basement and went into one of the side passages into the cellar. It was woefully empty, with barely anything in it. He managed to find a bag of potatoes and brought them up and back into the kitchen. Cook took them from him and set them on the wooden table.

"Dice these, dear. Here's a knife."

He took the knife from her and began to cut them up. "You're good with that knife," Cook observed. "You could teach Miss Lia a thing or two."

"In what sense are you speaking, Ms. Conner?" (Spade had discovered her real name soon after coming to the Montague Street house.) "So she can help you in the kitchen or so she can fight better?"

"I dunno, really," Cook said sheepishly and turned back to the pot. "Both, I guess. I mean, it's not 'sif you use your skills for makin' stew. Miss Lia told me what you did, back in the woods, see."

"Ah." Spade turned back to the potatoes and had them done quickly. He picked up the cubes, dropped them into the pot, and left the kitchen.

Lia was just coming down the stairs. "Where'd you get off to?"

"I was helping Cook with tonight's dinner."

Lia didn't seem satisfied with his answer, but continued talking. "Anyway, have you seen Addie anywhere? There's a rip in the dress I've got to wear tomorrow and I don't know how to sew."

"No, but I can hear her sweeping outside the room I'm staying in," Spade said.

Lia looked at him, startled, and climbed back up the stairs. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Addie walked down the stairs, dragging a long, heavy-looking gown. It was dusty rose, a color that didn't suit Lia at all. There was a tear in the seam of one of the arms. He couldn't see many details of the gown, but he could tell it was many years out of date.

"We got it second hand," Addie said to him. "There wasn't much choice, and we only use it once in a while. I update the style a bit before Miss Lia wears it."

She carried the dress past him and into the kitchen. Cook came out at the same time, ringing her bell that marked dinnertime. Instead of going in to eat, Spade started up the stairs. He knocked on Lia's door. It opened and he saw her pulling the blankets off her cot.

"Spade, what're you doing here?"

"Cook just rang the bell for dinner. Didn't you hear?"

"I heard. I've got to wash these, though."

"You've got to eat."

"Why on earth do you care, Spade?"

"Lia." His voice was quiet, and Lia paused in her work to look at him. "Why the hell do you think I'm staying here? I've got a beautiful big house in Manchester I could go live in, with everything I could ever want. It's because I want to make sure you're safe. I don't know why, but that's it. So why don't you just humor me and take a few minutes to eat?"

Lia looked at Spade, then brushed past him on her way out of the door. He followed her down to the kitchen and sat down with everyone else. Lia sat down across from him, began to eat, and Spade watched as a grudging smile tugged at her lips. Soon enough, she was snickering quietly into her plate.

As soon as she finished, she jumped up. "I'll go join Addie with my laundry."

Spade could hear the two girls working together until tea.

**Lia POV**

I hated this dress. Despised it. The sickening pink color, the awful restricting sleeves, and the innumerable petticoats. Addie had altered it a bit to make it more in fashion, sewing small sections of costly cream-colored ribbon around the sleeves to make them a bit more poofed out, and lowering the neckline a little. Mr. Mason had hesitated at the second one, but Addie said it was necessary if I needed to get information out of anyone.

She also took down the hem a little, so it brushed to floor. I still needed to wear stays, a hand-me down from the last woman who'd stayed here. Then there was the hour sitting in front of the sweltering stove, waiting for the hair iron to heat do I could have curls, at least. Cook did my hair in a braid that circled around from the crown to the nape, with jaw length curls to the sides of my face. She pinned a chain of pink roses around the outside of the braid. I didn't want to think about how much she'd given up for those.

Addie brushed a tiny bit of rouge on my cheekbones and rimmed my eyes with a thin line of kohl. When I finally was set free, I felt like the lion from the circus.

I fidgeted with my gloves in the hallway, hating the feeling of the sway of the skirts. When Spade came down, I took one glance and averted my eyes. He was far too handsome for me to keep my focus. His waistcoat drew the eye to his broad, muscled chest, his long jacket to his beautiful lower body, the knot in the tucked-in scarf at his neck to his strong jaw. He carried a silk hat in his hand.

Spade paused for a second at the first stair, then continued down the steps. He offered me his arm and I took it. We walked out to the shabby carriage, he handed me awkwardly up and climbed in after me. Bennie jumped up next to me, dressed in his black waiter's suit. It was a bit too big on him. Mr. Mason came out and said his goodbyes, shut the carriage door, and we were off.

It was a twenty minute ride from here to Preston. It began to rain, and Bennie snuggled close to me. "Lia," he whispered in my ear, though I knew Spade could hear everything, "I'm scared."

"It's okay to be scared, Bennie," I whispered back. "I'm scared too."

He looked back at me, wide-eyed. "But you're never scared!"

I smiled sadly and shifted in my seat. In the carriage, we felt every bump and pothole. My heeled, laced ankle boots were starting to pinch as well. They were well worn, and I'd hate to have worn them when they were new.

When we arrived, Spade handed me out and helped Bennie jump. I pushed the little boy in the direction of the servants' entrance and we headed for the door.

"Bollocks!" I whispered suddenly. Spade shot me an amused look. "How're we to get in? We've no invitation!"

"I'll handle it. And remember, we're a young aristocratic couple, not a couple of street urchins, love."

"Sorry."

We approached the door. Spade took the lead. "I'm Zachary Watkins, and this is my wife, Scarlett."

The doorman shook his head. "You're not on the list, sir."

"Really? Let me see." Spade leaned in, and suddenly his eyes turned bright green. The doorman's eyes glazed over. "You'll let us in," he whispered. "And you'll forget we were ever here." He leaned back and his eyes returned to their normal champagne color. The doorman shook his head and stood aside.

I stared at him until he noticed. "Some of the benefits of being me, love."

"And what exactly is that?"

"I'll tell you later."

"When you tell me what it is that makes you think you can't do everything?"

"Exactly."

We wound our way around the dance floor and I accidentally stepped on his foot. "Distracted, love?"

"You could call it that. I'm looking for Bennie."

"There he is." I followed his gaze and saw Bennie clearing a table. He was shooting us conspicuous glances every so often, but seemed to be doing okay.

I turned back to Spade. He bowed slightly and held out his hand. "A dance, my lady?"

I blushed and took the hand. He led me out onto the floor and I followed his steps. His dancing was ridiculously graceful. He held me close and whispered.

"What does he look like? Baker?"

"He's old, got a full head of grey hair, a mustache, and is tall and thin."

"Then I think I see him."

On our next revolution I looked over Spade's shoulder. Sure enough, there he was, a girl on each arm, talking to a fat man with black hair.

"Yes, that's him."

"Then when this dance is over, let's go talk to him."

"About what?"

"Does it matter? Anything that'll get us some information."

"I'm still not totally sure what we're trying to get him in the nick for."

"He pretended to invest money for people, but stole it for himself instead. We're trying to prove that he did so we can take him and give him to the client."

"Ah. Mr. Mason told you?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because you obviously understand it better than I do, and Sid was the one who tried to explain it to me."

Spade chuckled, a low, deep sound that may have been one of the most amazing things I'd ever heard.

Before I knew it, the dance was over and we were making our way to Baker. "Keep your head down," Spade whispered to me. "I don't want him recognizing you from the past or in the future." I complied and let my curls drift over my face.

As we approached, the man said something to each of his girls and they floated off to flirt with other men.

"Lovely party, isn't it?" Spade said as a greeting. He was almost matched in height by Baker.

"Very. May I ask your name?"

"Zachary Watkins. And you?"

"Michael Baker."

So he was using his real name. Interesting.

"And this is…?" He trailed off, gesturing at me.

"This is my wife, Scarlett."

"She's beautiful." Bake was looking at me in way that made me sick.

"Thank you," said Spade. "Say hello, Scarlett." He turned to Baker. "She's very shy."

I sidled up to Baker and gave him a good view of my décolletage, then rubbed up against him subtly. He was delighted.

"Hello, Mr. Baker. I've heard so much about you." I made my voice what I hoped was low and seductive.

"Shy? You're sure?" He said, smiling, to Spade. Cheeky prat.

"I'm going to get a drink," Spade said. "Scarlett? Michael?"

I ignored him, but Baker accepted. Spade walked off and I kept caressing the repulsive man.

"So you're a banker?"

"Yes, but I don't want to talk about that right now." He was staring straight at my cleavage. I pouted and stroked his jaw.

"But I do. Is that how you got such fine clothing? I couldn't help but notice your wife…wives…" I trailed off dumbly.

"Oh, those aren't my wives."

"Then what are they?" I placed my hands on his chest and snuggled up to him, barely stopping a shudder.

"You'll understand, honey, when you get a bit older. But you're right; my lifestyle is due to my job." He placed his hands on my waist.

"Ooh, do you think I could be that rich one day?"

"Only if you're a very, very bad person."

"Sounds fun," I purred, wrapping an arm around his neck and rubbing my breasts on him. Thankfully, Spade took that moment to show up.

"Mr. Baker, I'll thank you to unhand my wife." We jumped apart and Spade jerked me back by the arm. He thrust the drink at Baker and we walked away.

"God, I need a bath now."

Spade didn't laugh. "What did he say?"

"He said his lifestyle is because of his job and that I could be as rich as him only if I am, quote, 'A very, very bad person.'"

"Thank God you got him to say it. I didn't know if I could take another second of that."

I was about to ask him what 'that' was when I heard the sword come out of its scabbard.


	4. Chapter 4

**Spade POV**

Lia spun away from Spade, and by instinct, he grabbed hold of her arm and tugged her behind him. The sword belonged to a guest, who was brandishing it at another.

"How dare you insult me in that way? You will pay for this, you bastard!"

The other man had no sword. "Everything I just said was true. Your wife is a whore and your children are soon to be following in her footsteps. You are a cheap, lying piss-artist with no honor to his name!"

The first man began to charge his defenseless opponent, who grabbed the nearest waiter and pulled him in front. Spade distantly heard Lia scream.

"No! Bennie!"

She tried to run to him, but Spade held her back. They watched as the armed man shook his head and ran at the two anyway.

Spade released Lia, but it was too late. The sword was already traveling straight through the boy and into the man. Spade rushed at the man wielding the sword as he pulled it out of the two and began to wipe the blood on his pants. Instead, Spade grabbed the blade and angled it so it went straight through the cloth and into the skin.

The man screamed and Spade took his momentary distraction to throw him against the wall. He could easily have just snapped his neck, but any man who would kill a ten year old boy deserved more.

Spade then turned to Lia. The front of her dusty pink dress was soaked in crimson and there was a streak of it across her cheek. Spade heard no heartbeat in the body she cradled. She cried raggedly, a sound that made Spade want to inflict the worst of tortures on the man who had done this.

Around them, the ballroom was emptying. Nobody wanted involvement when the police showed up. Of course they didn't. There were two, soon to be three bodies, a sobbing girl, and what everyone thought was her dangerous, vengeful husband.

"Lia," he said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him once and turned back to Bennie's body.

"Can you do anything, Spade? Will you do anything for him?"

"There is nothing I can do. He was gone almost the second the sword went in and I've not the cruelty to raise him any other way."

Lia nodded as another sob ripped out of her throat.

"Come. We've got to go before the coppers come."

Lia stood and let Spade wrap the small body in his jacket. He picked it up and they walked out to the carriage. The driver took one look at them and yelled.

"Bloody hell!"

Spade looked the man in the eye, his eyes lighting. "Drive to number 16 Montague Street, Whitechapel. There is no blood and there is no body."

Spade set the tiny boy on one seat, handed Lia up, and sat next to her. The carriage began to move. It jerked to one side and Lia was thrown into him. She didn't move away, but instead buried her face in his shoulder.

"I knew this would happen. I knew it."

"You did all you could to prevent it. If it still happened, there was nothing more you could do." He wrapped an arm around her.

"Mr. Mason is going to kill me. It was my fault Bennie…" She trailed off, not wanting to say it.

Spade offered no other condolences. It wasn't her fault, and he wanted to tell her that, but he knew that if he told her, she would sink deeper into the guilt. He concentrated instead on the feel of her in his arms, her warm breath against his neck, the scent beyond the blood and Baker. She smelled like rain and oranges.

When they arrived, Spade once again handed Lia out, lifted the body, and dismissed the carriage. When they entered the house, Addie came out of the kitchen, saw Lia's dress and the bundle in Spade's arms, and fainted. Sid and Seamus came next. Seamus wrapped and arm around Lia and led her upstairs to get changed. As she started up, she turned to Spade.

"Help Addie, will you? She's awfully pale."

Sid asked Spade what happened, if it was Baker who'd done it.

"No. Two men got in an argument and Bennie got caught in the middle of it."

"Who started it? I'll kill him!"

"There's no need. It's already been taken care of."

At that moment, Mr. Mason came down the stairs, dressed in his nightclothes. "Mr. DeMortimer? What happened? Lia's all covered in blood, but neither she nor Seamus'll say what happened-" his eyes fell on the body and he sat down heavily on the steps. "We'll see what we can do for a burial in the next few days."

Sid took the body from Spade and put it in one of the unused guest rooms. "Mr. Mason," Spade said, taking off his blood and tear-stained gloves, "I am willing to provide some or all of the money needed for a casket and a space in the cemetery."

Mr. Mason merely nodded. Spade turned away and knelt next to Addie, who was still unconscious on the floor. He discreetly cut his thumb open and let a single drop into her mouth. She woke up immediately.

"Lia, Bennie, blood- Mr. DeMortimer!"

"You're okay, Addie."

"It's not me I'm concerned with. Where's Miss Lia? Is she hurt?"

"Not physically."

"And Bennie?"

Spade said nothing, a confirmation of what Addie already knew. Tears leaked out of her eyes as Spade simply wrapped his arms around her.

Maybe he was destined to comfort crying women forever.

**Lia POV**

I wasn't thinking. There was nothing but waves of guilt and grief inside me, eroding any other emotion that might have existed. Once Seamus laid out my nightgown for me and left the room, I changed mindlessly; left the bloody gown crumpled on the floor, washed the remaining spots of blood from my body, snuffed the candle, and lay on my bed.

I didn't sleep. I would have been foolish to think I would get a single bit of rest that night. I stayed awake throughout the hours, the scene replaying in my mind. I started to think about how I could have saved him. In my mind, I saved him so many times, he was alive again. My mind drifted to how it could have been if it was just Spade and me, going out to a ball together. How there would have been no Baker, and I'd be wearing a brilliantly colored dress with no blood, and we'd just be Baron Charles DeMortimer and his wife, Baroness Natalia DeMortimer.

The sun began to come up as this thought entered my mind, and with the sun came reality. I was Natalia Helena Rose Lexington, near street urchin, and he was a fabulously rich baron who had the power to heal and control. I had no other dress than my plain old grey one, and Bennie was dead.

It didn't help much.

I got up, dressed in my training clothes, put up my hair, and went down to the basement. I blindly kicked and punched, not caring where I hit the bag. My knuckles bled openly and strands fell out of my braids. Every kick deepened the bruises on my feet. Maybe, if I suffered enough pain, Bennie would come back. He would accept the blood flowing from my hands and onto the stone floor, the aches that came every step I took, and maybe he wouldn't be dead anymore.

I stopped only when the pain was such that I couldn't stand anymore. Nobody came down the steps, for which I was grateful. I sat against the wall, thinking of nothing. I didn't feel the pain, but couldn't summon the energy to stand again.

I slept fitfully for hours, and when I woke my watch said it was three in the morning.

My pains had lessened in some places and increased intensity in others, but at any rate, I stood again and started all over.

The cuts in my hands split open again and scrapes deepened on my feet. The blood dripped onto the floor and I think a part of me was horrified at what I was doing to my body.

When at last someone came down, I heard nothing, but suddenly saw Spade appear, fully dressed, at the doorway, just like he had last time. I ignored him and continued to move until a last hit made the bones in my hand warp and splinter. I just stood there, panting, and leant my forehead against the bag.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up, meeting Spade's eyes.

"Everyone's worried about you."

I said nothing as he led me over to a chair in the corner. I sat and he knelt in front of me. He took my hand in his and examined the break. When he opened his mouth, I saw fangs, long and lethal. He held his wrist to his mouth and I heard the tear of his flesh as he ripped through the vein.

Spade held the bloodied skin to me. "Drink."

I cautiously took his wrist and licked the blood off. More flowed out, and I had a hard time keeping it from dripping onto my trousers. When there was no more blood left on the skin, I looked and saw that the cut was nowhere to be seen.

The cuts on my hands were sealed and the bone was mended perfectly. The bruises and scrapes on my feet were gone. I looked back at Spade and saw a swirl of green in his eyes, but then he blinked and it was gone.

"You've got to tell me now," I said suddenly.

"Tell you what?"

"What you are. Why you think you can't do everything."

He stood and fetched another chair. "You first."

"That's not fair!"

"I won't tell you otherwise." There was a hint of mischief in his eyes that seemed to have replaced the green.

"Fine," I sighed. "Full version or abridged?"

"Full, please."

I began the story. "I was born in 1838 on the outsides of Whitechapel. My mother, Mary, was the nicest woman who ever lived. I had an older brother, Archer. He was five years older than me. My father was a drunken bastard who never said a kind word to anyone. He didn't work and my mother and I had to go into the factories to make our living.

"My mother died of sickness when I was six. My father, otherwise absent in our lives, decided to make his presence known. He began to abuse Archer and me. He'd hit us if we brought his dinner cold; he'd hit us if it was too hot. Archer ran away when I was ten. He tried to bring me with him, but my father caught us. He got away but I was caught. I think my father found and killed him later anyway.

"He began bringing his whores home with him. While I cleaned, I could hear him fucking his latest one. I think he was teaching me indirectly. After about half a year after my brother left, he abandoned them and came after me. It was horrible. Some nights I wouldn't know whether he'd be coming after me with his knife or his body.

"Finally, after it had been going on for around eight months, I took my skipping rope and tied it at the bottom of my doorway. When he came for me that night, I hid in my closet. He tripped on the rope and fell unconscious on the floor. I took everything I owned and spent the rest of the year on the streets. I begged and worked odd jobs. When I came here, I was eleven years old and twenty pounds underweight. Mr. Mason said I could live here if I promised to work for him. I've been here ever since."

I looked at Spade. He was looking at me funny.

"What?"

"That's one of the most miserable childhoods I've ever heard of."

"I know. It's what I've been thinking ever since I learned that word. Your turn, now."

"I'm outlawing interruptions."

"Fine, now get on with it."

He smiled, something I'd rarely seen him do. "I was born in 1765."

"What? That was nearly a hundred years ago!"

"Ah, ah! No interruptions." I huffed and sat back in my chair.

"My father was a gambler. He lost so much of our money that I had to be married to a very rich woman named Madeleine. Even that, he gambled away. One night, he lost a great amount to the Duke of Warwick, who brought together every person he owed and got them to complain to the king. He was jailed, our estate was seized by the crown, and Madeleine left me, as my title was then worthless. My father began to weaken in Newgate, and I went to the duke as asked him to transfer my father's debt to me.

"I was put on a ship and sent with sixty-two other poor sods to the penal colonies in Australia. I'll spare you the details and just say that the journey was more miserable than anything I've ever experienced since.

"When we were in the colonies, they worked us literally to death. One day, one of my mates, Ian, ran away. Nobody thought they'd see him again. When he did return, he had an army. They freed us all, and thinking he was doing us a favor, Ian turned me and our other mates, Crispin and Timothy, into what he was."

"And what was that?" I asked. He didn't scold me this time.

"Vampires."

I must have misheard. "Did you say vampires?"

"Yes. What did you think I said?"

"Vampires. Just making sure."

Spade looked amused. "You don't believe me."

"Not really, no."

"Then come with me. I was just going out."

"All right." I wasn't really sure what I was agreeing to here.

Spade got up and I followed him, ignoring the spots of blood still on the floor. I slipped into my tall leather boots and he handed me his jacket. He picked me up and settled me on his beautiful grey mare, then swung up behind me. We started off along the deserted street.

"Here's what I don't understand. Why is it me drinking your blood when you're the vampire?"

"Because vampire blood heals. I don't need to feed very often anyway, once every one or two days maybe."

"Is that what we're going out to do now?"

"Yes."

We rode further in silence. I let myself enjoy the feeling of his hard, muscular chest against my back. The fact that he was a vampire should have repulsed me, but it didn't.

"Here we are." We dismounted at a nondescript building.

"Is this a special place to get blood?"

He cracked a grin. "No. It's an opium house."

I stayed silent after that.

I trailed after Spade as he entered the building. The only person to be seen was a Chinese man sitting behind a desk.

"How many?" He asked in a bored voice.

I looked at Spade just as his eyes lit up. "Stay quiet. When we leave, you won't remember us ever being here." He moved behind the desk, picked up the man like a rag doll, and bent his head to his neck.

I caught the tiniest flash of his fang before his mouth fastened on the skin. I saw his pale, smooth throat moving as he swallowed and his eyes came up to meet mine. The same green was swimming in his irises again.

He finished and brought his thumb to his fang, then dripped some of his own blood upon the holes in his neck. They sealed immediately.

"Do you believe me now?"

"Yes." My voice was quiet.

"Good." We exited the building and mounted his horse again.

**Spade POV**

Spade hadn't quite planned on this when he'd taken a detour downstairs on his way out the door. He'd hated the sight of Lia inflicting such pain on herself. He'd loved the feeling of her mouth taking his blood in, healing her. And he didn't think she knew it, but when she'd looked back up at him, her eyes had been so full of heat that his blood had burned to go lower. When she'd told him about her father, a bolt of rage had shot through him. He wanted to find this man and repay to him what he had done to Lia.

When she'd stared at him in the opium house, he almost hadn't been able to control the heat that had flared in him at that first look in her eyes. She hadn't looked frightened. She'd looked interested, with a tiny bit of the heat from before.

"Are you afraid of me now?" Spade asked suddenly.

"I don't know," she said. "I don't think so."

When they arrived back at the house on Montague Street, Spade knotted Riptide's reins once more to the porch and they entered the door. Lia gave him his coat back when they parted at the second floor, and he gave her a fully fanged grin. She smiled back wryly and went into her room.

He heard her breathing even out in sleep a few minutes later. He was glad she was getting the sleep. Bennie's funeral was the next day.

When Spade got down to the kitchen early the next morning, Mr. Mason was waiting for him.

"Mr. DeMortimer," he began uncomfortably, "I'm very grateful for the money you've given for the funeral and… well… I saw you gave us a bit too much, and I was wondering if we could use it to get a mourning dress for Lia? She's only got that old grey one. It would be second hand, of course..."

"Certainly. And get it new, Mr. Mason. Addie, you and Lia can borrow my horse if you'd like to get to the shops downtown."

"Yes, Mr. DeMortimer," Addie said excitedly and made for the door.

"Also, Addie?"

"Yes?"

"Get one for yourself as well."

"I will! Thank you, Mr. DeMortimer!"

Spade turned back to Mr. Mason, who was looking at him oddly.

"What?"

"Don't you have to be careful with the money you make?"

"Mr. Mason, I am very careful with my money. I also, to put it frankly, have lot of it. It makes me very happy to give Lia and Addie some for new dresses."

"It saddens me that I am not able to give them the same."

"Believe me, Mr. Mason. You will someday."

Cook set a plate down in front of Mr. Mason.

"What time do we go down to the cemetery?"

"Five."

Spade excused himself from the table and went back upstairs to write a letter to Alten. He'd been leaving most of his affairs to his oldest vampire lately.

A few hours later, his letter had been sent, and Lia and Addie were back. They were changing in Lia's room.

Everyone else was already waiting silently in the parlor. They were all dressed in their best mourning clothes and were awaiting the walk to the cemetery, where they'd meet the priest.

When the two girls descended in the black gowns, Spade was very grateful he'd given the money to them. Addie had chosen plain black muslin, but Lia's was pitch-colored satin. The skirt was full with a narrow ruffle spiraling up and around it, stopping at the shoulder, where it crossed the high neck. The sleeves were full length and simple.

"Lia," Mr. Mason said, "I hate to say this, but you'll have another job on Baker tomorrow."

Lia nodded. She came down the rest of the stairs and they all walked to the cemetery. When they arrived, the priest was waiting with the casket next to him. They began the ceremony, the priest droning on and on.

When it came time to lower the casket, Spade noticed Lia had her knuckle clenched between her teeth, straining not to make a noise. Tears were trailing down her face and onto her collar. He reached up, removed her hand from her mouth, and took it into his own. When the first clumps of dirt hit the coffin, she made a tiny gasp that was imperceptible to everyone but Spade.

He wrapped his other arm around her shoulder and let her lean into him. Everyone began to move gradually away from the grave and make their way home. Spade and Lia went last, trailing behind as Lia struggled to gain control of herself. They walked further, Lia only letting out the occasional hiccup.

When they reached the house, she brushed his hand with her own and went into the kitchen. Cook was already beginning supper. Spade scented over-done Brussels sprouts, potatoes, and day-old lamb. He followed Lia into the kitchen. The room was very somber, as if a grey cloud had entered the room. When Cook set the food down, they ate in silence.

One by one, the people around the table began to stifle their yawns and straggle upstairs. Spade went up as well and sat on his bed. Charlie had told him earlier that it was Lia's birthday on Thursday the next week. He had to remember to get Alten to send up some of the names of the reputable dressmakers around. And maybe something else. He'd have to think about that.

**Lia POV**

I knew my job was dangerous that day. Mr. Mason had given me the details earlier in the morning, and I wasn't particularly happy with them. I was to dress as a whore, get Mr. Baker to pick me up, get some information out of him, and let the rest of the team get me out. I was using my old grey dress to play the part.

I'd been training the entire day. The blood had been cleaned from the basement, which I was grateful for. I didn't dare eat dinner; I was fearful I'd vomit later on Baker and ruin the whole cheap enchantress image.

I sat on my bed, gazing into my chip of a mirror, and wondering how to do this makeup. Lots of rouge and kohl would be required, along with my regular security strap tied high around my ribs instead to emphasize my bosom. I was already dressed.

I began to rim my eyes in smudgy lines of black until the lashes looked ridiculously long. I picked up the rouge and puffed it on until I looked like the women I saw on the streets. Finally, I took the tube of lipstick and applied a layer. I heard a knock on the door and looked up to see Spade looking at me curiously.

"Yes, I know," I grumbled. "It's awful. I don't do this much."

"No, no. You've got it perfect. Except for one thing…"

He drew closer to inspect, and I blushed, though I doubt he could tell under all the powder.

"Your lipstick. It's got to look like someone just shagged you good."

I blushed further. I was just about to say something when his lips descended on mine.

His mouth, strong and talented, played teasingly, and I shivered when I felt his tongue slightly press at the seam of my mouth.

Suddenly, he moved away. I watched him as he drew his forearm across his mouth.

"Bugger, that stuff tastes nasty. Dunno how you stand it." He looked up at me and inspected my mouth.

"_Now_ you're perfect."


	5. Chapter 5

**Lia POV**

I staggered down the nearly deserted street. Nobody looked twice at me, my ragged dress, my smeared makeup. The cobblestones dug into my aching, filthy feet. I knew I looked exactly as I should: a desperate prostitute, drunk and cold. I actually was freezing, the frigid wind biting straight through me. My tangled and wild hair blew around me.

I knew Spade was following me somewhere. I stared straight ahead, stumbling occasionally, trying to rub the cold out of my fingers. I already couldn't feel my feet, which was almost a relief after walking without shoes for so long.

A shadow detached himself from the wall. I shrunk back, wary.

"Come with me," he ordered brusquely. "We've need of you."

I stubbornly held back. "'Ow much'll yeh pay me?" My Cockney accent was passable.

"One quid."

I gasped slightly. "Really, guv? A quid? Jus' for me?"

"Yes, really," the man said, exasperated. "Let's go."

I followed along dutifully as the man led me to a carriage. I set an awestruck look on my face and prayed that Spade would be able to follow me.

I resisted the urge to wipe off my smudged lipstick. Partly because I needed it for my ploy, and also because Spade was the one who made it like that. That kiss, followed by his remark about the taste, left me more confused than I'd ever been. I wanted that kiss again. I wanted someone that would treat me as if I was all they ever wanted in their life. Someone who would think of me as more than a poor girl who came off the streets, more than just a girl who should know her place in society.

And yet I didn't know if Spade would give me that. I didn't know if a man who was almost a hundred years old would even think of me as a woman or just a stupid young child. Did he already think of me like that? He'd trusted me with his identity, but that wasn't much to work off of. He probably thought of me as a teenager too caught up with her foolish work fighting crime in a hopeless city.

"What's wrong, poppet?"

One of the men leered at me as I entered the carriage. "Who're you all bringin' me to?" I asked, sticking a little tremble in my voice.

"Our guv. He's short a whore. Needs your help."

"What's wrong with 'is other one?"

"Fell sick after some ball he took her to. There was fighting summat awful, I hear."

"Cheers me to 'ear he's forgivin' with his girls, then," I said, relieved.

"Some of 'em."

A shiver ran down my spine at his words. I hoped Spade would get here before Baker had the chance to do anything to me.

One of the other men in the carriage placed his hand on my knee. I almost shied away but remembered my place, moved closer to him, and smiled coyly.

The one who spoke to me first interrupted. "Edwards. Start thinking with your head, not your prick. The guv doesn't take damaged goods."

The man moved his hand just as the carriage jerked to a stop. The door flew open. A large, thick man stood at the entrance.

"I need the girl."

Everyone looked at me. I rose uncertainly and exited the carriage. The door slammed shut behind me and the driver snapped the horse into action. The brawny man grabbed the back of my neck and steered me to the door of a broken down shack in the middle of the street. I wiped my palms on my dress.

The man shouldered open the weak door. I entered.

The hand on my neck shifted. "Say 'ello to Papa, lass."

A hunched figure came out in front of me. "Didn't you 'ear? Say 'ello to your Pa, bitch." He spat the last word.

The man standing in front of me was my father.

The same father who'd kept me as his slave for four years. The one who'd taken my virtue before I was nine.

I felt sick over the familiar face. The piggish features, the voice made rough and raspy from years of smoking and alcohol. He gestured to the brute behind me, who, before I could react, shoved me against the wall and secured ropes around my wrists and ankles. I tugged at the restraints, but found no give in them.

"So." My father left the word as a statement. "What're ya' doin' out whoring it up, bitch? Shouldn't a good girl be at home makin' her daddy's supper?" He took out a long knife with his twisted fingers and held it to my neck. I didn't dare move for fear of having my throat slit. Terror coursed through me; I wished harder than ever for Spade to come.

"You've forgotten too many o' my dinners, bitch. 'Ime for ya' to learn your lesson."

He brought the knife to my collarbone. I cried out as he swiped it deeply across my skin, leaving a cold, biting, burning pain that seared across the gash. He lifted the knife and inspected the blood glistening on the blade. Then he set it to my temple. I shuddered, anticipating the terrible slice through my skin. When it came, he laughed at my small scream.

My father continued to bring the knife down to my ribcage. He cut through the grey fabric and drew a long, deep, bloody line to my hip. I cried out again, the cold agony spreading to my side. I tugged at the ropes around my wrists. Blood trickled down my arm from the chafing of the restraints.

There was a rustling in the corner. Vaguely, past the pain over my body, I realized there was a tiny cell in the room. Another familiar voice reached my ears. "Lia? Is that you?"

I knew him immediately.

"Archer!" I screamed as a gash was cut in my left arm. I tried weakly to speak to him again. "Archer, it's me…"

My father grabbed a soiled rag and wiped it roughly across my mouth. "Get that filthy stuff off you. You're not a whore anymore. You're mine."

I licked my lips. There was no lipstick anywhere on me. Just as he started to raise the knife again, the door burst open.

**Spade POV**

He entered the decrepit room, taking it in. His gaze hardened with anger when he saw Lia roped to the wall, soaked in blood. There was a twenty-something man in the corner, thin and weak. He looked somewhat like Lia.

When the man with the knife turned around, Spade saw, somehow, that this was her father. He had to take this man alive, he knew.

Spade took a knife from his jacket. Lia's father started towards him, but he spun and kicked him in the back towards the door, momentarily incapacitating him. He slashed at the ropes, freeing Lia's wrists and ankles. She collapsed on the floor and tried to crawl over to the man in the cell.

Spade turned back to her father, who had gotten two knives from his coat. The metal of one had a slightly greenish tinge to it. He leaped for the man, pulling him back as the normal silver blade left his hand.

He watched as the flashing metal whirled towards Lia, who was at the entrance of the cell, tugging weakly at the bars. Tears ran down her face, mixing with the blood. The knife struck her in the stomach, burying deep in her scarlet-stained flesh. She jerked back and slumped against the bars. The man inside shouted unintelligibly at her and pulled at her hand. The other one was curled around the hilt of the knife in her stomach.

Spade had to make a decision. Either leave Lia and risk her bleeding to death, or keep her father from flinging the second knife. He went for the knife. If he could keep that knife safely away from anyone, he could heal Lia in time.

Lia's father laughed maniacally. "You know what's in this knife?" he cackled, "Something that keeps _your kind_ from healing. If I nail ya' with it, you'll have the cut for eternity!"

Spade was thrown for a second. Not only did the madman know he was a vampire, he supposedly had something that kept him from healing his wounds.

"Not your cuts, only, though. If I, say, nail 'im," he gestured to the man in the cell who was still bent over Lia through the bars, "You can't 'eal 'im. Sure, 'e'll just mend on 'is own, but you can't help 'im."

Spade suddenly had a deep sense of relief that the man had not hit Lia with the green knife. Even if he was lying, it was longer and sharper and would have created more damage.

The madman brought his hand back. Spade jumped at him, trying to retrieve the blade without getting cut, but it was already being flung through a gap in the bars and into the middle of the thin man's chest. The man collapsed back, blood flowing from the wound.

Spade grabbed the madman, knocked him unconscious with a fist upside the head, and turned back to Lia. She was breathing shallowly and quickly; shock was setting in.

Spade grasped the hilt of the knife and pulled it out of her stomach. She arched her back and screamed as the sharp edges left her body. Blood surged up out of the rent in her flesh. He tore his wrist open and willed his blood into her. She willingly accepted it, and when the cut sealed, he ripped it open again. She licked at his skin, sending a chill through his body.

As her skin closed up, lucidity returned. She clutched at his arm. "Spade," she whispered raggedly, "Help Archer."

So that's who the man was. Her brother.

"I'm not sure that I can."

She dropped into unconsiousness. Spade called to Sid and Seamus, who rushed in from their position outside. They knelt next to Lia, covering her ripped dress with their coats.

Spade ripped the lock off the door of the cell and bent over the man inside. He pulled the knife from his chest and decided that healing him was worth a try. He slashed his wrist open again and held it to Archer's mouth. A steady flow of blood entered the young man's body, but did nothing for the gash in his chest.

Spade stood and went to Lia's father, who was regaining consciousness. "What is on this blade?" He demanded. "What is it treated with? Where did you get it?"

"It is called aeternum sana. And you'll never know where it's from, leech."

Spade shook the man. "Is there any way to reverse it?"

"No. No way." He fell back into unconsciousness.

Spade cursed and went back to Archer. He removed his shirt, tore it into strips, and bound them around the other man's chest. It was all he could do.

He tied the madman up with the ropes that had bound Lia. The odd group, three conscious people and three unconscious people, exited the run-down house. They went into the carriage Mr. Mason had hired for that night. Spade had Lia cradled against his bare chest, and he kept instinctively searching her bloodied body for wounds. When they arrived at the house on Montague Street, he carried her up the stairs, where he met Addie at the door.

The maid was clearly exhausted. "She's fine," Spade assured her. "I can clean her up if you'd like to get to bed."

"Definitely, Mr. DeMortimer. Just let me get her covered and you can go ahead."

Spade left the two girls in Lia's room. Addie emerged, yawning. "There are some rags and a basin of water in the room, Mr. DeMortimer. Good night."

"Good night, Addie." Spade entered the dark room and lit a candle. Lia lay under the covers. Spade wet a rag and brought the blankets back. Her body was almost completely uncovered, with a thin strip of cloth tied around her breasts and a loose pair of trousers cut off close to the top of her thigh.

He began to rub at the blood that stained her smooth stomach, which was marred by two white scars, one running on the right side of her ribcage to right above her hip, the other just to the left of her navel. He tried not to look at the swell of her chest or her long, silky legs. The blood came off her temple, and Spade felt a surge of hatred for the man downstairs in a cell that would do this to his own daughter.

A thin white line remained there at her hairline and across her collarbone. Spade gently turned her onto her front and cleaned the blood that had run around her sides and back. He ran his wet hands over her spine, soaking up the bloodied water with the rag.

Lia moved slightly. She blinked blearily and turned herself over onto her back again.

"Spade," she whispered roughly, "is that you?"

"Yes, Lia. It's me."

Lia relaxed into the cot. "Spade," she said, her eyes closing, "Kiss me. Like you did before. Please."

Spade felt his blood heat at her request. The kiss he'd given her had taken immeasurable strength to control. If he kissed her now, he didn't know if he'd be able to stop. But still he moved his hands behind her back and twined his fingers through her soft hair. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck as his mouth slanted over hers.

Spade kissed her softly, gently, until her mouth moved with more urgency over his. When his tongue moved against her lips, they parted and the kiss deepened deliciously. She tasted like her scent; rainwater and oranges.

Lia moved against him, and his body burned for him to send his blood south. He resisted, though, and managed to disengage himself, with great difficulty, from Lia. She fell back into her cot as Spade moved the blankets back over her.

He walked wearily up to his room. Soon enough, he wouldn't be able to stop. If he kissed her again, he'd be taking her in the closest place he could find, whether it was completely private or not.

The next morning, Spade woke to a panic downstairs. He could hear Addie and Sid in the cellar, Mr. Mason pacing in the kitchen. He dressed quickly and ran downstairs.

"What's going on?"

"He's gone!" cried Charlie. "Lia's pa! He's gone!"

"Is this true?" Spade turned to Mr. Mason.

"I'm afraid so. And he left this." Mr. Mason held out a sheet of parchment.

_Ill bern this house don. Stay heer and Ill do it. I suear._

"You think he'll do it?" Mr. Mason asked.

"Yes," said Spade suddenly. "Which is why we're all going to Manchester."


	6. Chapter 6

In this chapter, I would like to thank LDaemon for her/his line. It's just the perfect line and I mean no plagiarism.

**Spade POV**

"We're going to Manchester?" Lia's incredulous voice filled the kitchen.

"Yes. Mr. Mason and I agree it is the safest. You all will be staying in my home there."

"But…it's so far."

"I will have someone come pick us up. You, however, are only going to Manchester for a few days. Then you're leaving."

"Why?"

"I'm sending you to work with one of my mates on your fighting. No more than a few months. The Baker job can wait."

"And Archer will be traveling too?" Her brother had been doing badly, slowly losing blood over the last hours.

"Yes. We'll be doing it in as little time as possible."

"And when are we leaving?"

"Around midday tomorrow."

"Very well." She made to leave the kitchen.

"Where are you going?"

"To raid our empty guest rooms. I've only got this one gown."

"Don't worry about that. I'll have some provided for you when you arrive in Manchester. Incidentally, isn't your birthday on Thursday?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Just making sure."

He left the kitchen and went upstairs to write to Crispin.

**Lia POV**

I heard the knock on the door fifteen minutes before noon. I got up to open it and was surprised by a stately looking man. A beautiful carriage and two horses stood on the street.

"Ah, Miss Lia, I presume." He said flawlessly. "I am Alten. Mr. DeMortimer sent me to bring you all to Manchester. Two girls, three boys, two men, and a brother, am I correct?" There was a playful teasing in his tone.

I let out a breathy laugh. "Yes, it's true. I'll go get Spade for you." I let him in, shut the door, and went upstairs to Spade's room.

"Spade, there's someone named Alten for you."

Spade emerged from his room. "Thank you." He brushed past me and downstairs. I followed him.

"Alten," he greeted the man, who was still standing in the foyer.

"Sire," Alten replied with a deep bow. "The carriage is ready. Whenever you feel it fit to leave, we can depart."

"Everyone's got their things packed," I supplied. "They're in the kitchen."

"Would you go get them, please?"

I entered the kitchen, where everyone was waiting apprehensively. There was a pathetic six trunks between us. Archer was on a makeshift litter suspended on two chairs, and Cook was fluttering around him, patting his forehead with a cool rag.

We loaded our meager belongings into the carriage and followed them. It wasn't a tight fit at all. The inside of the carriage was simply but richly decorated, lined with dark red velvet. Riptide trailed obediently behind us as we began to move.

I didn't look out of the window as we left Montague Street behind. Ignoring the noises around me, I closed my eyes and dropped into a restless sleep.

* * *

><p>I woke when the carriage jerked to a stop. It was growing dark outside, and I still felt like I could sleep another few hours.<p>

We all clambered out of the carriage. People scurried out and took our trunks inside. Spade caught Alten's arm.

"Show the others to their rooms. I will take Lia to hers. Please fetch Emma for the injured one."

Alten nodded. Spade wrapped an arm around me and led me inside. I yawned widely and he grinned slightly. I was too tired to notice the opulent decorations in the house.

He brought me up one staircase, then another. I fell asleep again just as he opened the door to a large room, and he caught me.

* * *

><p>When I woke once more, the first thing that hit me was that I was in a four-poster bed, the room around me beautifully and tastefully furnished. There was a full vanity against one wall, a large wardrobe in the corner.<p>

Then I realized it was my birthday. I got up stiffly and walked to the wardrobe. It was filled with gowns of nearly every color and style, each in my size. I pulled out the simplest one I could find, a dark blue with lacing up the front and split ¾ sleeves. I pulled my hair into a simple braided bun.

I exited the room, descending another staircase and wandering the hallways. I jumped when I heard footsteps.

"You're not lost, are you?" Spade said, a small smile playing at his mouth.

"I'm afraid I am. I was looking for Archer."

"I'll take you to him. After you eat." I followed him like a lost puppy down more stairs to what I realized what was the kitchen.

"Henry, fix Miss Lia some breakfast. Ring me when she's finished."

The man -Henry- nodded and turned up to his stove. Soon enough, delicious smells were wafting from the pans, and he set a hot plate of food before me. I took a bite and nearly moaned. He gave me an amused look.

"I actually believe I have never tasted anything like this." I told him.

"Never?"

"I haven't exactly grown up with good cooks. Though, I'm not one to talk. I can barely boil water."

He laughed and let me eat. When I finished, he turned back to me. "Shall I call Master Spade yet?"

"Yes, please do."

He reached for a small bell pull. I didn't hear the bell ring, but seconds later, Spade appeared at the door. He thanked Henry and took me through one of the innumerable hallways. "Did you enjoy your breakfast?"

"Very much. It was like nothing I've ever had before."

"Then I'm glad it was Henry that changed it. He's one of the best cooks around. The nearby hotel has been badgering me to give him to them for years."

We walked further until we stopped outside a door. "I warn you," he said, voice low, "He is not in good condition. I will understand if you wish not to see this."

"Spade, I want to see it. He's my brother."

He nodded and let me in. Archer was lying weakly on the bed, a white bandage wrapped around his chest. Spade closed the door without entering, but I barely noticed. I ran to his side, taking in the shallow movements of my chest. One of his eyes opened.

"Lia," he whispered hoarsely. "You're all right."

"Yes, Archer, I'm all right."

"I'm glad. Happy birthday."

"Thank you, Archer. How'd you know the date?"

"I've been counting down the days. I always did. I needed to make sure there was some way I remembered my baby sister."

"Archer…"

"And now it's okay. Because you're not a baby anymore. You're an adult now. You're eighteen."

I said nothing to that. I could say nothing.

I could see his consciousness falling from him as tears fell from me. I checked his pulse. He was still alive, at least. I got up quietly and opened the door.

Spade was waiting for me. He closed the door and wrapped me in a silent embrace. The tears still fell, and after a while, he held me at arms' length and wiped them away with his thumbs.

"I've got a birthday present for you. Not exactly an appropriate time, but really, when is?"

I laughed weakly and followed him again. He brought me outside to the back end of the manor, which opened into a large courtyard and paddock.

In the paddock was a large, dark bay stallion. Spade whistled and he trotted over. I held out my hand and he nuzzled it, searching for treats.

"Here you are," Spade said with a small smile.

I looked at him in astonishment. "You're having me on. He's not really for me, is he?"

"Of course he is. You think I'd only pretend to give you a horse?"

I turned back to the magnificent stallion. "What's his name?"

"He is Orion."

"The hunter," I breathed. I stroked his muzzle.

"Would you like to take him out?"

"I haven't got much experience in the saddle," I admitted quietly.

"No matter," he said smoothly. "We'll go slowly."

Spade opened the gate and let Orion out. We walked to the stables, and I was constantly aware of how the giant horse dwarfed me.

Soon enough, Spade had a saddle on him. He snorted lightly as I stroked his neck.

"Now for the fun part." I looked apprehensively at Orion.

"Fun?"

"Yes, fun. Now stand in front of him. I'll just lift you up your first time."

His cool hands circled my waist and tightened. I felt my feet leave the ground and I landed on Orion's back. I grabbed the reins to steady myself.

"Good." Spade's voice came oddly from below me. "I've never ridden sidesaddle, but it seems more difficult than the other way. Less to hold on to."

I internally agreed. Spade took Orion's lead and walked us back out to the paddock.

"Start just walking him around a bit. Then you can work up to trotting if you like."

I took the reins back from Spade and felt the muscles working under the stallion's skin as he walked slowly in a circle around the large paddock. He turned at the slightest move of my hand, but seemed impatient to go faster.

I loved this horse. Already, he was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen. I nudged him a bit with my heel and let out a yelp as the pace increased. Spade smiled from behind the gate.

I noticed it was getting dark already. I directed Orion back over to the gate and ungracefully dismounted. It was a start, at least.

"Now you've got to walk him dry. He'll get sick if you put him up wet." Spade placed one hand on Orions chest, near his forelegs. "Here. If you don't feel any sweat, you can stable him."

I felt the slight wetness there. Orion snorted and bucked his muzzle against me. I took his reins and walked him a few more times around the paddock. When I felt no more sweat, I took him into the stables.

Spade began to unsaddle him. "Thank you, Spade," I said. "He's wonderful."

"I'm glad you approve. I had a hell of a time, you know, trying to decide which one. I did it all through correspondence with Alten."

"Then I'll have to thank him, too."

"He'll appreciate that."

We stood in silence. I fed Orion a few dried apples from the barrel next to his stall, feeling his warm breath brush against my hand.

It took a few moments before I realized that Spade was standing silently behind me. "Dinner is ready," he said. "I could have something brought in for you, if you like."

I turned. "Oh, no, I'll come. Thank you." At that moment, I realized how close we were.

His hand came up to cradle my cheek. I leaned into his touch.

"Men have fought battles for lips less luscious than yours," he breathed before his mouth closed over mine. It began slowly, a few teasing touches, but I brought my hands up and around his neck. The kiss deepened, his fingers tangling in my disheveled hair. His tongue pressed against the seam of my mouth, and I let him in.

Spade's hands traveled further to my waist and set there, his mouth exploring mine with a thoroughness that had me shivering. He pressed me into the stable wall, and I heard Orion whinny curiously. I kissed him back openly, and he pulled my bottom lip into his mouth. I drew him closer to me, and he groaned quietly, deep in his throat.

He pulled back, his eyes glowing with a green so intense that I nearly had to look away from the contrast to the dark stables.

**Spade POV**

He looked over her flushed body. She was the most beautiful, most enchanting woman he'd ever met. Her lips glistened red from his attentions, and at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to take them again.

Her arms were still twined around his neck. He loved the feel of her so close to him. He could not be satisfied with any other woman, he knew. He loved her.

And this woman, his love, was pulling insistently at him. She arched up, trying to reach his lips. He was sorely tempted to give them to her, but he also knew he had to keep up his appearances. If both of them missed dinner, it would be obvious what they were doing, and would be quite awkward the next day.

Spade kissed her lightly one more time, then drew away.

"Spade, how long will this continue?"

Her question startled him.

"This?"

"You know what I mean."

He turned to face her full on. "This will continue until, one, you let me have you and it begins to continue in another way, or, two, I stupidly wait until you find someone else and run off."

Lia inhaled sharply at his statement, then made for the door. She paused slightly there. "Let me know when you make up your mind."

He smiled infinitesimally at her words. "I will. Now go eat. You're in for a full day tomorrow."

Spade ended not going to dinner anyway. It was an unnecessary part of his life as host. He went downstairs to feed instead, forcing himself not to think about Lia. When he returned to the main floor, Alten was waiting for him.

"Sire," he said, "Mr. Archer's condition is deteriorating. Emma does not expect him to last much longer. Shall I notify Miss Lia?"

"No. She has seen enough of him today. If nothing improves by tomorrow, we can tell her."

Alten nodded, but did not move away.

"Is there something else, Alten?"

"Yes. Well, Sire, if he does not pull through, where shall we have him buried?"

"I was planning to consult Lia on that. Maybe at the edge of the woods, past the paddock."

"Very well. I shall hope it is not necessary."

"As will I, Alten." Spade continued down the hallway. He could hear Lia upstairs, dressing for bed. She yawned, and he could almost see her lips, full and red, parting. He shivered, trying to dispel the images. She was barely a woman, for God's sake.

Maybe he could wait. Maybe he wouldn't have to. He'd be damned if he let her drift away from him and into the arms of some other man. And so he made his decision. When she rose tomorrow, he would give her his answer. If she accepted it, he knew he would be hard-pressed to let her go to the countryside with Crispin on Sunday.

And if she didn't…well, he didn't want to think about that.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: The smut alarm is going off. Don't like, don't read. It's not M rated for nothing.**

* * *

><p><strong>Lia POV<strong>

When I woke early the next morning, Archer was the first thing on my mind. Spade followed as a close second, and breakfast distantly in third. I rose, dressed in an elegantly decorated dark lavender gown, and made my way directly to Archer's room. The hallway around it was deserted, and I heard nothing inside.

I slowly pushed the door open. It was dark, but the air was clear. Archer lay still in his bed, eyes closed. I panicked for a second and felt for his pulse. It was there, very slightly. I sat next to the bed, watching the small rise and fall of his chest. Emma had changed the bandage at some point from when I'd seen him yesterday, but blood was still soaking slowly through the white cloth. He didn't wake, not through the half hour I sat with him. Finally, pangs of hunger jerked through me, and I left the room quietly in search of food.

When I arrived at the kitchen minutes later, Henry was standing over his stove, diligently stirring a sauce that smelled deliciously of butterscotch.

"Miss Lia, you're up early. Can I make you something?"

"Yes, thank you, Henry."

Henry left his stove, keeping a watchful eye on it, but began to cut off thin slices of bread and soak them in eggs. I walked over to the pot.

"Should I stir this?"

"Oh, please do, Miss Lia. I can't have it burning."

I took the spoon and watched Henry as he dropped the bread into a pan. It cooked, letting off a wonderful smell.

"What's that?"

"French toast, Miss Lia. Master Spade spoke of it the last time he returned from Scotland."

"Oh, in Whitechapel we call it Gypsy toast. I've never had it, though." I turned back to the pot of butterscotch.

A few minutes later, Henry had reclaimed his spoon and set a plate of food, dusted with sugar that looked like flour, in front of me. I ate it slowly, relishing the sweet and salty mix in the bread.

"Henry, I am so glad that Spade never let that hotel hire you. I think I could get used to this. It's heavenly, thank you."

He grinned. "My pleasure, Miss Lia. It pains me to see someone who has never had decent food before."

"Please, just call me Lia. I did grow up on the streets, you know."

He nodded and took the pot off the heat. He continued to beat it into another pot of cream and sugar.

"What are you making?"

"Butterscotch ice cream. It takes twelve hours to freeze."

"Another first," I mused. "Ice cream is something of a myth where I live." Henry chuckled slightly and took my plate to the sink. I got up happily. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Lia," he said, and I departed the kitchen in search of the stables. It was late morning when I finally found my way through the labyrinthine hallways and emerged into the light. The overcast sky cast a dull light over the ground.

I looked away when I saw the wall I had been against with Spade last night. I hadn't seen him at all today and wondered what he was doing.

I opened Orion's stable door. He bucked his muzzle against my hand and I scratched him absently, running my hands through his mane. I located his tack and saddled him, copying the way Spade had done it yesterday. Orion whinnied slightly when I led him out to the mounting block. I made it onto his back ungracefully, but I was up nonetheless.

I started him around at a walk, then made my way up to a slow canter. The smooth movement of Orion's muscles rippled under his red-brown coat, and once again, I could feel him straining for me to let him go faster, harder. A froth began to form over his neck and I bent closer, grasping the reins. My hair, unfastened, whipped over my back, and my dress became darker with the descending fog and sweat.

I slowed him back to a trot, then a walk, and dismounted. Narrowly avoiding collapsing on the ground in a purple heap, I walked Orion around the well-worn paddock a few times until the wetness had dried. He followed me back to the stable and stood patiently as I rubbed away the rest of the sweat and mud with an old blanket.

The sky was already darkening as I went back into the house. Hunger stabbed at me, but I knew that if Cook saw me like this in the kitchen, I'd get much worse than a scolding. I walked tiredly back up to my room and washed away the grime with a wet cloth. I re-plaited my hair and threw on a fresh dress.

My moss green skirts swishing around me, I exited my room and went to the dining room. Everyone was already assembled. Spade was absent as always, though it was disappointing all the same. I'd half expected him to come out during my ride, but his absence was worrying. What if he had chosen to be a stupid, honorable male and try to give me a life of my own? Or was he just avoiding me before he had made his choice?

I ate ravenously, having missed lunch, and caught Henry's amused look as he brought out another course. I sent him a playful glare and he grinned. A second later, he disappeared back into the kitchen, carrying a heavy urn that had once been full of soup.

When the butterscotch ice cream came out, Henry sent me an exaggerated wink. I tried hard not to burst out giggling. His antics mixed with my own exhaustion were affecting my mentality. I accepted the bowl set in front of me and nearly moaned with delight when I tasted it. Licking every last drop from the spoon, I ignored the funny looks that Charlie and Sid were giving me.

It was a sad moment when I realized there was no more of the wonderful delicacy in my bowl. I sat in my chair, content, when I realized I was about to fall asleep and excused myself.

Emma was waiting for me in the hallway. "Miss Lia," she said quietly, "your brother is not doing well and I believe he just asked to see you. If you would come with me?"

I followed her, my happiness draining away. I went into the now-familiar room and clutched Archer's hand.

"Lia," he whispered hoarsely. I could barely make out his words. "I'm…glad…you're…here…" he trailed off and his hand went limp in mine. I stood up quickly and grabbed Emma's shoulder.

"Please," I asked quickly, "Is he still alive?"

She listened for a second. "Yes," she said quietly.

I walked out of the room and went up the stairs. I kept climbing past my own floor, and found myself on the widow's walk cut into the roof.

I leaned my elbows on the railing and held my head in my hands. The fog drifted slowly past, dampening the air and it was impossible to tell whether the moisture running over my face was tears or rain.

I felt someone behind me, arms circle my waist. I spun with a gasp and met Spade's eyes.

"Where have you been all day?" I asked accusingly.

"I was going to talk to you this morning, but you move too fast. I had a commitment in the city that came before I could find you."

"And what were you going to talk to me about?"

He moved closer. "I made my decision."

I wound my arms around his neck as he ran his lips over my cheeks, tasting the mixture of salt and rain on my skin. "And?" I whispered, my voice nearly quivering.

"I'm yours for the taking."

I reveled in his words and stood on tiptoe to bring my mouth to his. Spade lifted me to rest on the railing and he pressed against my knees. I parted them and he stepped forward, holding me flush against him. He kept one hand on my back and the other on my waist, and though I knew I was on a very narrow railing against a very far drop, I couldn't bring myself to care.

"Lia," he groaned against my mouth, "I feel I must tell you that butterscotch ice cream will now become a common item on our menu."

I moaned as his lips slid down my neck. "For what reason?"

He whispered against my skin, the cool air making me shiver. "I happened to glance into the dining room tonight. In no way will you ever torture me like that again."

"You're going to have to elaborate, Spade. I'm not getting it," I murmured, my voice low and husky.

His mouth slanted over mine again. "God, Lia," he said in between kisses, "That look that was on your face is something I should see only when we're alone in my room."

I gasped as his lips began a sensual battle with mine, his tongue exploring every plane of my mouth. I returned the effort and our tongues slid hotly against each other. I was panting when he released me. His mouth moved to my ear.

"And that tongue of yours, love, that was the real agony. Do you know how difficult it was to keep from running straight into the dining room and taking you straight on the table?"

"I'm glad you restrained yourself," I moaned, sliding my hands under his untucked shirt and over his rock-hard muscles. "That would have been quite embarrassing."

He stiffened as my thumbs flicked over his nipples. "That's it," he growled. "You're coming with me." He scooped me up sideways, an arm around my legs and another around my middle. I slung one arm over his shoulders and concentrated on getting his shirt off one-handed.

Luckily, we didn't meet anyone during our trip through the hallways. When we entered his spacious room, he set me down and I leaned against the wall, watching as he undid the last of his buttons and let the cloth float to the floor.

**Spade POV**

He had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Lia. The red of her swollen lips and flushed cheeks contrasted beautifully with her green dress. Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips, and he forced himself to keep undoing the buttons of his shirt.

She approached him when his torso was uncovered. He grasped her wrists, though, and kept them from touching him.

"Not yet, love," He whispered to her. "I haven't had my turn." Holding her wrists with one hand, he took the tie out of her damp hair with the other and unraveled the braid. He moved his hand to the laces at the back of her dress and slowly, leisurely untied them and began to loosen them.

"Spade," she moaned against his shoulder, pulling against his hands, "go faster. Please."

He continued to slip his fingers through the ribbons, and when they were slack, he didn't let the dress fall but splayed his hand over the hot skin of her back. She gasped and pressed against his fingers.

Spade slid his hand back through the laces and up her back to her shoulder. He let the dress fall from shoulders and down her hips.

She didn't blush, or attempt to cover her body. He looked at her face, his eyes lit up green, and she looked back unwaveringly.

"I'm used to men looking at my body, Spade. It hasn't been unfamiliar to me since I was eight."

"And I love you all the same."

Lia started at his words. He pulled her against him and kissed her deeply, running his hands over her curves. She had filled out somewhat over the few days of adequate food and the effects were staggering. She gasped when she felt his arousal against her abdomen and ground her hips against him.

Lia swallowed Spade's groan and he felt her hands slip down to the fastening of his trousers. They were undone in a flash and she slipped her hot hand into them. He had long ago sent his blood down and was more than ready for her. He nearly collapsed when her long fingers wrapped around his shaft, and pressed her against the wall. Her legs wrapped around his hips.

Spade moved one hand to her breast and wrapped the other through her hair. She gasped when his thumb brushed over her hardened nipple. With an effort, she pulled away from him.

"Why are we doing this here? There's a perfectly usable bed just a few feet away," she whispered.

Spade lifted her from the wall, feeling her legs tighten around his waist. She took the opportunity to shove his trousers from their perilous perch on his hips and he kicked them away. He set her on the bed and knelt over her. Her hands drifted over his chest and abdomen and he kissed her, moving from her mouth and down her neck.

His lips closed over her nipple and she whimpered quietly, digging her nails into his back. He laved the sensitive point and sucked it into his mouth, tasting the salt on her skin. She tasted like her scent, as if the pure essence of rain had been mixed with citrus.

He moved to the other breast and she arched against him. He kissed a path down her stomach and she froze when she realized what he was doing.

"Spade, you don't have to-"

He shushed her. "That doesn't mean I don't want to."

His fingers found her wet center in the next moment. She bucked against his hand, and he forced her midsection back to the mattress.

**Lia POV**

His fingers, oh god, what couldn't those fingers do? I moaned uncontrollably and grasped Spade's hair as one of his fingers pierced me, rubbing deep. His thumb rolled over my clit and I tightened my grip on him.

"Please, Spade," the words left my mouth before I could stop them. He withdrew his finger and raised his bright green eyes to mine as he slipped it into his mouth. I saw his tongue flicking the very last of my wetness from it.

"Delicious," he whispered gutturally, and brought his mouth back to mine in the next second. I could taste myself on his tongue and feel his shaft pressing against my core. He drew back and looked into my eyes.

His green irises were nearly blinding in the dark. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"God, Spade, yes."

I gasped when I felt Spade enter me. He only stopped when he filled me completely. Under my fingers, a slight tremble shook him in an effort to stay motionless.

I moved under him, eliciting a groan. "Spade, please."

He released his control and began to thrust roughly. I dug my fingernails into his back despite the glimpses of scars I'd seen, and hooked my ankles around his hips.

Heat built in me unbearably, both too much and not enough. Spade set faster pace, flashing stars in front of my eyes. He tilted his pelvis and I fell over the edge, crying out and gripping him. When I opened my eyes, he was there, watching with a lust in his expression that made me shiver.

Spade pulled from my wetness as the last tremors faded away. I had always thought that sex hurt, but this…how could anything feel this good?

"You didn't…" I trailed off breathily.

"Believe me, love, I've more plans for you. Don't worry about me."

He penetrated me again with a long, swift stroke. He continued to stretch me, his thick shaft causing an excruciating pleasure that had me once again on the edge of release.

Spade leaned down and took my lips in his again. Our tongues tangled, and he caught my moan before it could escape. I pressed harder against him and he increased the pace again, hot and passionate.

I clutched at him, desperate for the taste of blissful oblivion I'd felt before, lost in the feel of him pounding in and out of me.

"Fuck…Spade…"

He groaned and buried his face against my neck. His fangs nipped lightly at my skin, his hot tongue immediately smoothing over the twin scratches. He repeated the action, the slight pain causing me to move harder against him.

Spade's hands roamed over my body as he thrust into me, skimming and stroking over every inch of my flesh. His rough skin stimulated the nerves, and I arched further into him, gliding my own hands about his body. The muscles shifted just under the skin, a practical caress to my fingers.

Every stroke from him brought me a step closer to the edge of climax. His movements became more erratic, losing their rhythmic cadence. A last, deep thrust had me tumbling into a powerful release, over the cliff of the oblivious unknown. He moaned wildly, a hot, passionate sound that was like a wind blowing through my freefall, buffeting the storm of sensation and sensuality and making it that much more erotic.

I felt him shuddering his orgasm over me, and just before his arms gave out and he dropped downward, he rolled over, pulling me flush against his chest.

**Spade POV**

Spade woke early, loving the warm presence in his bed. Lia was beautiful in sleep, her bare body drawn against him, their legs entangled. Her dark blonde hair was a tangled halo spread out along his pillow. He worked his fingers gently through her wild locks, and she nestled closer to his chest.

Lia's dark brown eyes opened. She trailed her fingers along his skin, then reached her arms above her head and stretched. Spade enjoyed the luscious sight of her body, her full, dark pink mouth parted slightly.

"Good morning," he said, a wry smile tugging at his lips, "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in ages. That was amazing, Spade."

"For me as well. And feel free to continue stretching like that; the view is wonderful."

She blushed and drew her arms back in. "What time is it?"

"'Round eight."

"I should check on Archer."

Spade sighed. Reality was coming back, and where last night had been a reprieve from the harsh life they led, all holidays you took had to end eventually.

He rose from bed and opened his wardrobe. He began to dress, taking pleasure in the sight of Lia slipping on her frock from last night.

"This'll work until I get to my room. Really, if anyone sees me, what'll they think?"

"They won't. I doubt any of your family or the servants took notice of your clothing yesterday. The household staff is used to ladies wearing several dresses a day."

"Are they now?" Lia looked at him questioningly, pausing in the lacing of her gown.

"Damn, Lia, that's not what I meant."

"I'm sure it's not." A playful, mischievous light danced in her eyes.

Spade came up behind her and placed his lips where her neck met her shoulder. "You're the only one for me," He growled.

He encountered the open scratches where he'd nipped her. He made to cut open his thumb and heal them, but her hand shot up and stopped him.

"I'm yours, Spade, and people should know when I want them to."

He kissed her at these words and walked her backwards until she hit the wall. She pulled away, though, and he gazed longingly at her lips.

"I've got to get dressed and see Archer. Off with you."

Lia slipped out the door and Spade waited a few minutes before following her. He could hear her dressing in a fresh gown upstairs. He couldn't follow her, though, and needed to go fix some business with Crispin, who was arriving in two days to take Lia for training.

**Lia POV**

I had one simply decorated dress left, a dark silver silk that was cool and slippery against my fingers. I dressed quickly, meaning to visit Archer before I ate.

I rushed through the hallways with my hands hastily fixing my hair as I walked. When I emerged from a corridor, though, Emma was waiting for me, wringing her hands.

"Emma? What is it?"

"Miss Lia. I regret it, but I must inform you of this."

Shivers ran down my back. "Inform me of what?"

"Your brother passed away this morning. We're holding a small private funeral at the edge of the woods today at sundown."

I collapsed.


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry for the delays on updates; I've been pretty busy with the end of the school year. Now that summer has started, I'll try to get updates up at least once a week. But I'm also keeping up two other stories that I've been encountering a bit of block on, so delays may be necessary. Luckily for you, I've thought out this entire story before I began writing it so my only hesitations will be in the wording, not the plot.

Lots of angst in this chapter, a lot of dazed, suicidal, protective thoughts from Lia. You don't have to read it all, but it's helpful if you do, and I'd appreciate it if you dropped a review about it.

Oh, and it's got a few ideas from HTTG, seeing as Lia is going to train with Crispin, so it might have a few similarities.

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><p><strong>Lia POV<strong>

Archer could not be dead. He just couldn't. Could the Fates be so cruel as to rip us apart after such a short reunion? And now he was gone, as Emma had said, about to be buried under the ground, his body rotted and bones turned to dust. My brother, believed dead for so long, only to be found, and now dead once again…it could not be possible.

This hallway was my world now, the small space of carpet in which I rocked, back, forth, back again. A never-ending pattern that must end, as life must. A pattern that I concentrated on; focused on nothing but moving the right muscles in order for my curled body to make the arduous journey back from its forward-leaning position, for if I did not complete this journey, my life would surely end.

Not a noise escaped me. Noises must not escape, not one peep, or the world would know of my anguish, this newfound desire of mine to be oblivious to everything. How wonderful it would have been to not feel a thing. To be free from the crushing agony that was battering at me, pushing at my body's walls in an effort to both be free from my heart and to crush its inner defences.

Footsteps. I could feel them, even through the thick carpet upon which my voyages back, forth, and back, forth were composed. A voice, one which I refused to hear, for what if this voice helped the pain through my walls? No, I could not let it through. Not even when the owner of this voice, the man I knew was wonderful, bent down in front of me, took hold of my hands, and did not let go of them. I could not let this man know. If he knew, if he felt what I was feeling, or what I would feel if my walls collapsed, he would crumple as easily as a fallen crate to a dock. It was too much for anyone. And if what I thought was true, that he had already felt this crumpling power, he would surely not survive, for a recovery from the power is rare enough, but a second blow is a complete mental genocide of the senses, of the willingness to love.

There were hands, forcing me to stop my journeys. Bringing me up, leading me through my small, secluded world. I could not stop rocking for fear of death, the same death that had claimed my brother. Would it be better to welcome it? To use it as my oblivion, the reprieve that I yearned for? No, I could not. Because these people, helping me through my world of hallways, would feel the Crumple if I was claimed by the death, but they wouldn't if I stayed in this small semblance of life and continued to fight the pain pounding at my guts. Only I must feel it, in order to protect them from it.

These people I was protecting, people I knew as my brothers, my father, my lover, were handing me over to a woman I once knew as Addie, my sister, but now I did not know her, I did not care, because my brother was dead, and was there anything else to care about in the world? Could I care about anything but not letting the Crumple reach them, because if it did, they would crumple as well, and it would only increase in my own heart.

Smooth muslin brushed against me, a dark, dark color, for funerals. This girl next to me, she was wearing it too, and she was crying, and I envied her. All through the walk we took, with my unwitting charges around me, she cried, and I envied her. I knew she cried not for a loss of her own but my loss, and I wanted to cry too. But there it was again. If I cried, the Crumple would kill them all.

They said words I did not hear and made gestures I did not see; I could see nothing but the smooth mahogany box being lowered to the hole in the ground, and it was a box that could not possibly hold my brother. My brother was indestructible, wasn't he?

But it did. It held my unmoving, cold, dead brother. And the dirt the color of dark chocolate was dumped unceremoniously onto the box, the Crumple pushed hard at me, punishing me for my weakness, at letting them cease my rocking, at forcing me out here to accept the death of Archer.

They left, and suddenly it was only me, or so I thought, standing by the lumps of soil that had once been my family. And the Crumple forced its way out and in at the same time, through the walls of my heart, crushing every wall in it and pushing out of me in a single cry.

I fell to my knees, uncaring of the mud that dirtied my dress, feeling every sob, every broken sob wrench itself painfully from my body. They started quietly, but I could not contain them, not even when the wonderful man I knew as my lover appeared, knelt next to me. I remembered how he could have once fixed this wound that felled my brother; it slipped my mind that he could do it no longer.

I felt nothing but hate for him, I hated him for everything, and I wanted him to feel sorry for letting Archer die. I let him know this, and I let him know completely. My cries, my shouts, my weak hits against him did nothing, though, and only led him away, back to my world of hallways where I was bound once more.

And then I remembered. I loved this man, I did not hate him, but above all, I had not protected him.

I had failed, I had let the Crumple reach someone but me, and I hated not him, but myself for it. Him, of all people, whom I loved, whom I could not bear to see be hurt by it again, had been harmed by my failure.

This world was not fair.

**Spade POV**

He wondered: why does she not cry? Why is she holding back, doesn't she realize that he can handle anything she throws at him?

And then he realized: he could handle anything, anything that she sent his way, anything but those three words.

I hate you.

It was those words that made him realize that he was not invincible. Not to emotions, not to silver knives through his heart.

And each one of those words was one of the knives that killed him as surely as if he had fought and lost, fought in a physical battle in which he was severely outclassed.

And he was in his room, ignoring Alten outside the door, averting his eyes from the clear figure of Lia out at the edge of the woods.

He closed the window, trying to shut out the sounds he could still hear. She had a way of expressing her grief, and it was a way that he would do anything to never hear again. Just the fact that it was hers, that it was this girl that he loved that was feeling this, pushed him to tears, pink tears that dropped to the thick carpet.

For a second, he hated her brother, her poor dead brother that was stuck in a hole in the ground. He hated him for dying, he hated him for making Lia's cries be those of pain and not enabling himself to turn them to ecstasy.

"Sire?"

Alten's voice jarred him through the door. Wiping his tears carelessly on his sleeve, he called back.

"Yes?"

"There are still a few affairs to work out, sire. Bones sent a cable, and he's coming a day early."

"That's tomorrow, isn't it?"

"I believe so. Will Miss Lia be leaving with him still?"

"Yes. Make sure Emma has her clothing packed."

"Yes, Sire."

Alten's footsteps echoed away.

Spade left the room like it was something disgusting he had stumbled across on the sidewalk, trying not to remember that he had woken up there with this beautiful, beloved girl in his arms.

It was late, and Lia had been out too long. Crispin's training was difficult enough, and with a cough it would be near impossible. Passing the dining room, he saw her family, Mr Mason, Sid, Charlie, Seamus… all sitting at the table with expressionless faces. They were only in shock. Seeing Lia, the woman they all knew to be strong, capable, as nothing but a blind, grieving girl had to be a blow to all of them.

He couldn't get one of them to get her from the woods; he couldn't ask that of them. So he decided to risk it, to risk hearing her weeping in order to collect her from the freezing air.

He stepped out, past the paddock in which he could see the prints of her last ride, and through the grass that separated his home from the trees. He could see her dark form, hunched in the cold. She wasn't rocking, she wasn't crying, and Spade panicked for a moment as he thought that maybe his ears were failing him, that he was only imagining the steady heartbeat emanating from her.

But she was alive and warm when he reached her, a relief that waved over him like a calming breeze. She stood at his behest and leaned against his side when he reached his arm around her. He had expected her to pull away. She hated him, didn't she? She had killed him with her words; she might as well make it worthwhile. She shivered when his lips pressed against the top of her head, and he couldn't determine, not even from her scent, whether the shiver was that of repulsion or pleasure.

They walked together in silence. The long grass had to be bothering her legs under her skirts, but she made no complaint, not a word. When at last they reached the house, he relinquished her to Emma with ease.

Spade didn't sleep that night. He didn't try. He didn't want to go up to his room, where memories of his lovely, naked, ravished girl were, and where the wet remains of his own bloody weakness still lingered, though long gone from his cheeks.

Crispin came early the next morning. Spade found him in the sitting room, sipping a glass of whiskey as though he showed up in Spade's home every day.

"How'd you get here?"

"Horse. Where's the girl?"

"Sleeping, I reckon."

"When will she be ready to leave?"

"As soon as she wakes up."

"That soon?"

"I want to get her out of here." It was very final, the way Spade felt saying those words. There. He'd said it. It was true.

"She's that bad?"

Spade sighed.

"Oh…I get it, mate."

"Do you really?"

"No. Explain it, will you?"

"Spade buried his face in his hands. "I love her," he muttered.

Crispin made no noise. When Spade turned around to look, he saw his best mate laughing silently. "I want to meet this girl," Crispin said finally. "Anyone who can get this reaction from you must be great."

"Not right now, you don't. She's nearly catatonic."

"Why is that?"

"Her brother died two days ago. We held his funeral last night."

The last traces of humor faded from Crispin's face. "That's rough. But why do you want her gone?"

"I'm not sure."

"Yes, you are, mate. You just don't want to admit it to me."

"She said she hated me yesterday. I believe her."

"That complicates things."

"Does it ever."

"I don't think she hates you."

This was surprising. Spade looked up to Crispin. "Come again?"

"She doesn't hate you."

"That's a whole lot more certain than 'I don't think she hates you.'"

"It's true. People say a whole lot of things they don't mean when they're grieving."

Spade said nothing.

"Come on, Charles, let me meet this girl of yours."

Spade raised an arm and rang for Alten.

"Sire?"

"Please tell Emma to wake Miss Lia and bring her down once she's dressed."

"Yes, sire."

"Thank you."

The pair sat in silence.

**Lia POV**

I was woken gently by a cautious Emma.

"Miss Lia," She said quietly, "Bones is here to collect you. You're to ride to Nottingham on Orion."

I groaned and sat up. "Thank you, Emma."

"Mr. DeMortimer has asked that you come to the sitting room when you're dressed."

"I will."

Emma departed and I put on the clothing she had laid out for me. Miraculously, it was a pair of tight riding trousers, a white Oxford shirt, a waistcoat, and a black jacket. There was a black velvet hat for me to tuck my hair under.

I dressed quickly and with relief at finally getting out of a dress. I was just attempting to tuck my hair under the hat when I came through the last steps of the hallway into the sitting room.

Spade was there, and a tall, brown haired man that I assumed to be Bones.

They both stood as I arrived, and I gave up trying to wrestle my unruly mane into submission and held the hat by my side. Spade wasn't looking at me, I noticed, but instead at a point somewhere above my head. The other man was examining me with what looked like avid interest.

"Lia," Spade said, still not exactly addressing me, "This is my mate Crispin Russell. He's taking you to Nottingham to train for your work."

Crispin - or was it Bones? - smiled wryly at me and extended a hand. "Call me Bones, lass."

I shook his cool hand. "Natalia Lexington," I replied quietly with what might have been a hint of a smile. "Or just Lia."

"Will we leave soon?" Bones turned to Spade.

"Yes. Alten is readying her horse right now.

I resumed my struggle with my hair.

Spade was behind me before I noticed, gently pulling it to the back and twisting it into a knot. His skilful hands made me shiver, a feeling I realized I missed. I desperately wanted to talk to him, tell him that it wasn't him I hated, but myself for saying that.

Alten arrived just as Spade tucked my hair under the hat, and we all trouped outside. Orion was there in his full tack, bags packed to his sides. I went straight to him, stroking his russet coat.

I delayed mounting. I wanted nothing more than to speak to Spade, but when he asked me whether I needed help up and that I was delaying our departure, I realized it was a lost cause.

**Spade POV**

He avoided her gaze. It was not something he needed to think about, and kept his mind blank of everything but the need to get her off to Nottingham.

He offered to lift her to her horse, though he knew she didn't need it. He didn't want to have to, either. Any physical contact with her now would be torture later. He had tided himself over with the simple twist of her hair and decided he would have to live with just that for a month.

He didn't watch as she mounted Orion, or as the two riders left through the gate in the paddock to take the rugged route to Nottingham.

He turned and walked slowly back to the house. That was all.


	9. Chapter 9

Spade didn't miss Lia. He tried not to even think of her because when he did, it was as if two halves of him fighting against each other. On one side, he wanted to lean close to his fastest horse and fetch her back from Crispin; the other side wanted her to stay there forever and let him have a life without the problems she gave him.

But deep, far back in his mind, he knew he didn't mind the problems. They weren't even really problems, just more evidence of her wonderful presence in his life.

These thoughts confused him so much that he preferred not to think of them at all. Instead, he went about what had been his business before Lia, business that consisted of worrying about a lot of other peoples' lives and little of his own. A sad existence, really, in which he gathered no pleasure from women and no satisfaction from his work. His guests faded into the background of his concentration and Spade only hoped that their extended stay was continuing to be comfortable.

He received no word of her from Crispin as the month went on. He didn't need a word.

**Lia**

I didn't see anyone but Bones during my training. Orion had been led off by a nameless stable boy at my arrival and the maids came during my training. I grew used to the isolation in the first few weeks, although at times it seemed easier to be alone in my room than with Spade's best mate.

It was difficult to live with Bones; his taunts stung me and his knives stung even more. When he announced upon my arrival that we would be _starting_ with physical training, I wondered what other kind of training he could possibly mean. When the month that I was staying with him passed, I still didn't know.

My training seemed to progress quickly. Exhaustion was my constant companion. I rose each morning before dawn and fell on my bed long after midnight. But I was getting better. After three weeks I was able to land a glancing blow on Bones, but he let nothing out but more smarting remarks. Still, he encouraged my unique fighting style and developed it until, by the time I was due to return, I could almost land a knife on him.

One morning, I was swaying unsteadily in our training room, feeling the pangs from my woefully empty stomach. The large room was dark and I barely heard the small thump as someone dropped down behind me. I spun around and caught the glimpse of a knife as it flew in a wide arc toward me. I bent back and felt the blade skim the fabric of my tattered waistcoat. Bones continued in a stunningly fast flip that ended with a fist shooting out to my face. I spun to face the opposite wall and caught his forearm in my own hand. Before he could yank it out of my grasp, I turned his own weight against him and spun him around me. I gave his arm a last twist and he rolled gracefully to the floor. I reached for the knife in his hand, but he flipped the blade and I grasped the sharp edge instead. Blood began to flow as I flicked the knife back around and tried to wrap my damaged fingers around the hilt.

Bones tugged me toward him with the hand I still had clenched around his arm and I fell upon him with a muffled thud. He reached up with the other hand and caught my blood-stained wrist.

"You're getting better," he chuckled. "Although catching the sharp end of the poker there was not a smart move." I fumed wordlessly as he continued. "I sent a letter to Charles today. You're staying with me at least another month. We'll continue with physical training for the next two weeks and we'll move on for as long as we need."

"But isn't he expecting me tomorrow? That letter won't reach him for another week."

Bones shrugged. "It'll reach him sometime soon, Angel." I disliked his name for me. It was mocking, coined after a comment he'd made at the beginning of my training: "Well, aren't you just a pretty little angel of death." It had not been my best attack upon him. "But this situation here-" he nodded down at the fact that I was lying atop him, my legs parted to straddle his lean hips-"allows me to introduce the next bit of your training. You need to know how to bend a man to your will. Mixing your-" he smirked, -"feminine charms with your fighting will be necessary."

"Just two weeks with it, though?"

"You're not an innocent. It will be easier than if we had to start at the beginning."

I raised an eyebrow. "Then what?"

"Then we'll go straight into emotional training. How to keep a man occupied without a knife."

I nodded and began to feel the awkwardness of our position. I shifted around, but stopped when I saw Bones' eyes darken and begin to swim with green. I decided to try a bit of our new training.

I wriggled against him in a way that I knew drove all men crazy. The green brightened in his irises, and I drew closer. Bones rose up and kissed me. It was surprising, but I managed to kiss him back and keep my head. He kissed differently than Spade.

Our tongues tangled and he rolled me over to my back. I used the movement to disguise my arm, bringing the knife up to his throat. My bloodied fingers brushed his bottom lip just as he gently bit mine, and he grinned and licked the redness off as he pulled back.

"Good," he said. "For a beginner. You'll get better, I'm sure. That snog was something, though. I can see what Charles likes in there."

I didn't blush, but I could tell that he was baiting me. Instead of actively retaliating, I leaned forward and pressed the knife closer to his throat. "Can you really?" I whispered, brushing my lips over his cheekbone. Then, quickly, I ducked beneath his arm and swung over him. He was left on his stomach, my blade at his neck. I crouched over him. He laughed.

"Better than I thought. I could use someone like you in my work."

I stepped away from him and he sprang to his feet, eyeing the knife still clutched in my hand. Suddenly, my hunger and exhaustion washed over me and the knife dropped from my hand. I swayed unsteadily.

"You're weak. A fighter can't afford to be weak." I focused on staying conscious as he approached me. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Two-two days ago." I stifled a yawn and he grasped my arms to keep me upright.

"Why haven't you been eating? Food has been sent up to you."

"Too tired. I go straight to sleep when I get to my room."

"Bollocks, Angel. My concern may be for your training and not for you personally, but I don't want Charles at my neck when you come back to him half dead. Or more. Now go eat your food that is doubtlessly still in your room and go to bed."

I managed a stiff nod and turned away from him.

I woke up hours later. Though I was full and rested, I sensed something was wrong. Someone else was in the room.

Seconds later, Bones dropped onto my bed. He was unarmed, but so was I. I jumped out from under the covers and swung a fist at his abdomen. The impact shook my shabbily bandaged hand and I cried out. Bones caught my arm and tugged me to the side so that he could grasp both my wrists.

"Shoddily executed, Angel. And you should have gotten me to take care of your hand."

I glared at him. "You try being woken up like that. It's not easy to adjust to."

"Then make it easy. I'm training you for all sorts of scenarios; it's your job to make it work." He brought my freshly bleeding hand to his face and inhaled deeply. "Delicious," he murmured. "Has Charles claimed you yet?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Claimed?"

A small grin graced his face. "Either drank or fucked you. It's the same both ways."

I fought a blush. "Are you going to heal my hand?"

His grin widened and quickly tore open his wrist. I hastily drank away as much blood as I could in as short a time. Not only did he kiss differently than Spade, he tasted different as well.

"So, which one was it?"

His question surprised me. I thought he'd dropped the subject. "Wouldn't you like to know," I purred, and sidled closer to him. Bones' hand crept off my wrist and down my leg, where he hiked my calf up to rest on his lean hip. I leaned into him. Then I whipped around, pulling him off balance. I jumped off the bed as he fell to his back. I leaned over him. "Easily distracted?"

He flipped off the bed with a grace that caught me off guard. "Ah, Angel, I'm only playing with you. You've still got quite a bit to learn."

"Then teach me."

And teach me he did. Amidst hundreds of scrapes, cuts, and bruises, (some of them in extremely awkward places) I learned the art of sexual combat. By the end of the second week of the second month, I could disarm a man and distract him in one move. I could snake around him and slide a knife in his ribs without a single bat of my eyelashes. And speaking of batting my eyelashes, I could kill someone with that, too.

When I finished that week, Bones told me that we would be moving onto what he called emotional and verbal training.

I found it consisted of one thing: talking dirty. We would sit at a table in the training room and trade utterly explicit banter. Though I watched his irises through the whole thing, I found not a shred of green swimming through them.

I, however, was a shamefully different matter.

I was sure he could smell my wetness as he whispered in sinful tones of how he would explore every inch of me, but he made no comment on it. Sometimes, when I caught him off guard, I could see an odd expression on his face; it was an expression I often saw on Archer's face. Not lustful, absolutely not, but protective.

I asked him about it one day during our training. His face hardened and for a second I feared that I'd said the wrong thing.

"Angel," he began, sighing, "You may not know it, but you are now the purpose of Charles's life." I was unnerved by his sudden lack of cockiness. "But this may not be my story to tell."

"Please, Bones. I should be nothing to you."

His eyes flared. "You will never be nothing to me. I may not care for you as Charles does, but you, Angel, are the first thing I have ever known to lighten his heart since Giselle."

"Giselle?"

"A girl from many years ago. Charles fell in love with her and she with him. She was visiting and was killed."

I drew in a breath. "How?"

"That's as much as I will say. The rest is for Charles to tell you in his own time."

"All right. Are we going to train today?"

Bones grinned. "Of course. And you'd better not make me suspect you're thinking of anything but fucking me 'till my seed runs out, or you'll be running thirty miles before you go to bed tonight."

"It's what I've been looking forward to all day, Bones. You know you'll be begging me to stop before I let your cock dry."

"Ah, Angel, you think your stamina outranks mine…The only reason my cock will be dry is because you'll run out of juice to wet it."

I faltered, but hoped he didn't notice. "Oh, but I won't. I've still got some juice in me." I drew my tongue across my lips and left them glistening.

He leaned forward. "Thirty miles, Angel."

I swore viciously and slumped backward in my chair. "Bloody wanker," I muttered.

Bones' grin widened. "Don't need to. Now run. I'll meet you at your loop. Three laps."

I got up and slipped my boots on. "I thought we were done with physical training."

"I can't have you getting soft, can I? You're going home at the end of this week. What will Charles think if you can't run a mere thirty miles?"

I grumbled and made for the door. Fall was approaching and the weather was damp and cold.

As I ran, I tried to ignore the stones I could feel through my thinning boots. The fog made its way through my layers and chilled me until the only thing keeping me going was the idea of my warm bed back in Bones' large home. Twice he had met me at the tip of my loop. I had seven miles left to go when I heard the rustle beyond the trail. I gave up my precious momentum and skidded to a stop.

"Hello?" I called into the woods.

"Well, hello." A voice returned my questioning yell.

"Who are you?"

The owner of the voice stepped out in front of me. I spotted gleaming red hair and blue eyes. "I'd like to ask you the same question."

I ran. I couldn't outfight him, so I ran. I took a shortcut through the woods, the branches tearing at my face. My lungs started to burn as I drew closer. I sprinted the last half mile and reached Bones. He looked at me disapprovingly.

"No shortcuts, Angel. That's another ten miles."

"Bones, no," I gasped. "There's someone out there."

He was immediately alert. "Was he armed?"

"I don't think so." I gasped for breath.

"Description?"

"Reddish hair, weird blue eyes-"

Bones swore. "Ian," he said, turning away and starting towards the direction I came from. "Where was he?"

I steeled myself and began to run back to the spot I'd seen the man he called Ian. When I reached it, the man was leaning leisurely against a tree, picking at his nails with a knife.

"Crispin," he called, "Never thought you'd come. Who's your pet?"

I bristled at his words.

"Why are you here, Ian? You should have written before you decided to visit."

"I thought I'd surprise you. And you never answered my question. Who's this?" Ian nodded toward me.

"Some girl of Charles's. He left her here last visit."

I stayed silent.

"And what was she doing out here?"

Bones stepped on my foot before I could open my mouth. "She's a terrible whore. I can see why he didn't want her. Thought I'd get her to be my new protégé."

"In what, whoring or killing?"

"Both."

Ian nodded approvingly. "I've been dying for a drink since I left. Going to let me in?"

"Lets go."


	10. Chapter 10

Hey, sorry for the delays. Its Saturday and I've been on a writing roll this week, so I figured I wouldn't give up the chance and stay up till 1:20 am and finish this. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Bones led Ian into a large dining room that I'd never seen before. He produced a bottle of whiskey and a glass and set them both down in front of the red-haired vampire. Ian ignored the glass, picked up the bottle, and began to drink straight from it.<p>

"In a hurry?"

"Always, mate. It's taken me ages to get here. None of my household knows where I am."

"Why the hell not?"

"Why should they?"

Bones sighed and continued to ignore me. I leaned against the doorway and watched Ian.

"She's not just a whore, Crispin." Ian's slight mutter caught me off guard. Bones had been teaching me to catch extremely quiet noises, but I didn't think it had worked that well. "You know that."

"I don't know what on earth you're talking about, mate. Who?"

"Your girl over there." Ian made to wave his hand in my direction, but at his slightest mention of me, I had fled to my room.

I stoked the fire that was flickering in my room and chucked in a pine cone that had been sitting on my bedside table. The flames went mad, crackling loudly and covering the sound of my heartbeat. I pressed my ear to the ventilation duct and strained for a snatch of conversation.

"What the bloody hell have you been teaching her, Crispin? She's human. It won't last."

"You'd be surprised at what a mere human like her can do. It's been much more than I've expected."

"Have you talked to Vlad about this? You know how he gets bored."

"Tepesh is no worry of mine. I have no plans of revealing my pastimes to him."

There was a sigh and a pause. "Have you fucked her yet?"

I could imagine the infinitesimal scowl appearing upon Bones's face. "I wouldn't and I can't anyway."

"Why not?"

"It's like you said earlier."

"Ha! So she's valuable."

"Of course. She's Charles's."

"You said that earlier. He does want her?"

"It's complicated. He thinks he doesn't. But he does."

"Ooh! Drama!"

Once again, I could almost see Bones rolling his eyes. "He's sent her here to train. And so he can stew in his own angst. He doesn't know what he wants."

"But you do. Let's go to Manchester and knock some sense into that dickhead."

Bones sighed. "Lia. You can stop listening through the vent. Come down here."

I swore and sat back on my heels. "Pine cones worked last time," I called.

"Not if you know what to listen through. Your heart is beating louder than that."

When I arrived back downstairs, Bones looked bored and Ian looked incredulous. "You were listening?"

"Yeah. Fires make a lot of noise." I pulled out a chair and sat next to Bones.

"You sure you want to go back to Charles?" Ian's brow arched. "I could use someone like you." A mischievous glint appeared in his eye. "For more than one thing."

I sat back. "If I'm hearing right, then the ownership of me would be between you and Spade. You'll have to talk to him about that."

A disappointed look extinguished his boyish expression. "You know just what not to say," he grumbled.

"Oh, believe me, mate, she can say just the right thing," Bones said, a small grin pulling at his mouth. "That's exactly what we were practicing before we met you."

"So what else can you do?"

I smiled. "Anything you want."

"Oh, I like this girl. Anything I want? You're sure?"

I barely glanced at Bones, who gave me the slightest not. I took it as an affirmative and stood up. Bones rose as well, going to stand in the corner and observe.

I sidled around behind Ian and ran a hand along his jaw. "I'm sure. Want to try?"

His fingers slowly crept to my leg and curled there, a searing grip that locked me in place as he stood and began to walk me backward until we hit a glass-fronted cabinet.

"Hmm… what first…" he looked contemplative as he ducked his head and deliberately ran his lips over my neck. I shuddered, turning it into a sensual shiver, and slid my hands over his chest and around his neck. I pressed his head closer to my throat as though in encouragement. I looked around to Bones and saw one eyebrow raised in amusement. He motioned for me to keep going. He wanted to see how I would go through with it.

Ian's mouth came up to my ear. "I haven't fed in a while…you seem like you'd taste good."

I pulled him closer to me. "I told you anything, didn't I?"

His mouth curved into a grin against my ear and his tongue flicked out to trace the curves of it. Then he moved further, back down to my throat. I felt his fangs slide out and press their length against my skin. I tried to suppress the bolt of fear that struck through me and hoped he didn't smell it through my own scent.

Ian's fangs slanted suddenly, their sharp tips coming dangerously close to piercing my flesh. I quickly shook my knives out of my sleeves and brought my forearms up to block Ian's teeth, knives themselves, from slicing into me. My arms swiped across each other, scissoring across what would have been Ian's neck.

He had moved so quickly I hadn't seen it happen. Suddenly he was behind me, holding one of my own knives to my neck. I elbowed him, hard, in the stomach and ducked out before the blade could cut more than a thin red line across my skin. I spun and leapt at him, slicing a gash across his knuckles, forcing him to drop the knife. His fist caught me in the side and I gasped for air as I vaulted over his shoulder, throwing him off-balance and to the ground.

He rose suddenly, the knife back in his hand. I stumbled back, still trying to regain the air he'd forced out of me. I hopped up on a chair and flipped over him. The knife flew from his hand as I turned, striking me in the crook of my elbow and sticking through there. A sharp, intense agony screamed in my arm and I stifled a cry. My knees collapsed as I landed and I jammed my arm back, throwing the blade that was protruding from my skin into his. He swore and tried to turn around, but I twisted my other arm and stabbed the other knife deep into his back.

"Fuck!" He writhed, and I barely kept a hold on the knife through the pain shooting through my entire arm.

"Mate. Stop." Bones's voice finally entered. "You see what I've been teaching her?"

"Bloody hell, Crispin! You've been giving her all our old secrets," Ian complained, and he jerked suddenly, pulling the blade that was impaled through my inner arm out of his skin but farther into mine. I cried out, and Ian turned, yanking the other knife from his lower back.

Blood streamed from my arm, and the world started to swim. Ian scooped me up and set me on the table. Red dripped from my fingertips to the ground. Bones cut open his wrist and held it over my mouth. I drank willingly, letting the hole in my elbow close and my blood replenish.

My other hand reached for the knife that had been buried in my flesh. I sat up quickly and jumped back onto Ian, knocking him to the ground. I wrestled with him for a second before getting the knife above his heart.

He started to laugh. "You've got to tell me how you managed it, Crispin. She never gives up."

"That wasn't my doing, Ian. Angel, let him up and go clean off your arm. If you keep bleeding on him like that, he really will start drinking you."

I sat up and fought the fresh wave of dizziness. "Was that a test, Bones?"

"Of course. An unplanned one, but a test all the same."

I walked off to my room. Blood still ran down my arm and trickled off my fingers in rivulets. A fresh basin was waiting for me, and I stripped off my waistcoat and shirt and wiped off the blood with a damp rag. Two violent pink lines remained on my elbow, both on the inside from its initial entry and just around the base of my upper arm from the exit of the blade.

I'd beat Ian. He'd been caught off guard and I'd beat him in a fight. The crazy urge to whoop with joy overcame me, but I fought it and collapsed on my bed instead. I was asleep within minutes.

Ian was gone the next morning when I woke. I ate and went downstairs to the training room.

"Yeah, he left," Bones said, striding into the room. "Either that or I kicked him out. You passed, by the way."

"The test? Oh good. My life is complete."

The sarcasm in my voice made him grin. "You passed so nicely, in fact, that you're going back to Manchester today."

My heart leapt. "Seriously? I get to go back?"

"Seriously. I'll be coming with you, of course, but yes, we're going. Go pack your things and I'll have your horse readied."

I could barely contain myself from skipping off. My meager belongings were packed in barely minutes, my blood-soaked clothing from last night chucked carelessly in the bin for waste. I was in a fresh shirt, waistcoat, and breeches was I galloped down the stairs, bag in hand. I jumped into my boots and met Bones at the front door.

When I opened the door, a stable boy began strapping my small bag to Orion's flank. I greeted my beautiful horse and examined him. He was well fed and glossy, nuzzling my hand happily.

Bones's own horse was already packed. I swung up on Orion and watched impatiently as Bones did the same. He nodded at me, telling me to move. I nudged Orion and began the journey to Manchester.

**Spade**

Spade looked up, startled, when he heard Alten's knock on his door. "What is it?" he called. "You were instructed not to disturb me."

"Yes, sire, but you'd want me to disturb you for this. Bones has returned."

He stood quickly and strode to the window on the hallway wall. Sure enough, two sleek horses stood outside. He scanned the yard quickly, hoping not to see what was inevitable.

Lia was back.

Spade practically flew through the hallways in his haste to get to the door. He met Crispin on the doorstep. "You're not supposed to be back for another week."

Crispin shrugged. "She was doing well. She deserved an early break."

Spade glanced back to the lawn and saw Lia and Emma, exchanging their feminine greetings and also exchanging playful blows. Lia managed to duck every single one of Emma's and even landed a few on the vampire.

"Bloody hell, mate. You really worked something with her."

"You bet I did. She got a knife on Ian last night."

"Ian? What was he doing in Nottingham?"

"I dunno. Who knows why he does anything?"

Spade shrugged and led Crispin inside, leaving Emma to deal with Lia. He didn't want to face her yet.

They had a drink and Spade introduced Crispin to Mr. Mason. Sid, Charlie, and Seamus hung by the doorway. The moment they heard that Lia had returned, they left, whooping though the house like madmen.

"You know," Crispin said edgily, "Lia-"

"Leave it, Crispin. I know what she said."

"I was going to say that she misses you. Give her a chance."

Spade snorted. "Never thought you to be a romantic."

"I'm not a bloody romantic, mate; I just don't want you to be hung up on Giselle all your life."

Spade stood up. "You know where your room is. There are people downstairs." Crispin stood as well, nodded, and left the dining room.

Spade walked through the hallway, hearing Lia unpack in her room. He entered his study, sitting back down in front of the work he'd been laboring over before the unexpected arrival.

He read the same sentences several times, trying to concentrate on his papers instead of Lia's tantalizing heartbeat many floors above. The papers fluttered back down to his desk and he started to pace, anxiety tearing at his still heart. What if Crispin was wrong? What if she did hate him?

It took him several minutes to realize that his beloved's heartbeat was getting closer. It was a slow, hesitant sound, as though she felt like she was forbidden from this wing of the house.

She knocked at his door and he answered before he could stop himself.

"Enter."

Lia did, closing the door behind her. Spade turned his back to her, facing the framed portraits on his walls. "Spade," She said slowly, "I-I don't know what to say-"

"Then say nothing."

She fell silent. Finally, she spoke again. "I'm sorry."

"What do you have to apologize for?"

"I don't know. Well, yes, I do."

"Please just make up your mind."

"Stop it!"

Her exclamation made him turn around. "Stop what?"

"You know what. Stop turning my sentences around on me. I don't hate you, Spade. I really don't. Not a day went by that I wished I had never said that. Please believe me. I'm begging you."

He was around the desk in a second. "Don't. Never beg me. I can't take it." He surprised himself with the rawness in his voice.

"What can I do? You don't believe me. I can tell. You think I hate you."

"I don't know what to think."  
>"I know what I'm thinking. I'm thinking that if I could go back in time once, just once, I would stop myself from saying that I hated you. I wouldn't save Archer. I know it sounds sick, but I would choose you over my own goddamned brother." A half sob, half laugh burst from her.<p>

Spade swore and gathered her close to him. "Lia. I never thought you hated me. I might have tried to trick myself into thinking it, but I never really believed it." He marveled in the heat emanating from her body and wrapped his arms tighter around her.

A relieved choke came from her and she buried her face in his chest. Spade nudged her chin up with his hand and bent down. She met him halfway on tiptoe and he kissed her with all he had. Every worry, every shivering thought he let go through the kiss melted away in an instant, a single, blissful instant.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and he lifted her to rest on his hips, flicking his tongue along hers and tasting her rain-and-oranges scent. She responded in full, weaving his hair through her fingers and pulling him closer.

Spade's lips moved to her neck and he stopped there. "Why do I taste Ian?"

She laughed. "Bones gave me a test. It was a mix of seduction and combat."

"Who won?"

"I did."

He returned to ravishing her smooth, pink flesh. "That's my Lia."


	11. Chapter 11

An update? What's that? Oh plus I've found a few discrepancies in the ages….whoops. Apparently Spade was changed into a vamp circa 1807, and is 30 years old in human years…uh…sorry. But for the sake of the story, let it slide. And: just for you: three pages of straight flirting and smut! I spent all day babysitting a fourth grader-I need some adult-ness.

**Lia**

When I woke in Spade's bed, it was just getting light. Spade himself still slept next to me on his side, and I nestled closer to him. I trailed one rough, cracked hand down his sculpted abdomen and his eyes flew open, already drowning in green.

Spade growled slightly and went for my mouth, but I stopped him with just about the most restraint I've ever had in my life. Still tracing each defined muscle, I looked at him questionably. "You never told me, you know."

His unmarred brow furrowed. "Told you what?"

"What makes you think you can't do everything. All of what I've seen so far has pointed to the opposite."

He laughed, but it was almost reluctant. "You may not want to know."

"Why not? Because I'd learn more about your life?"

"Because you'd learn about how I was in love before you."

I thought for a second. "I want to know, Spade. I've got no idea what it is about me that makes you tick, I guess I might hear about a different one to see if there's any similarities."

Spade's mouth twitched up for the smallest part of a second. "It's just like you, to make a joke out of something like this. I'm outlawing interruptions again, though."

"This has to be easier than learning that you're a vampire."

"I can only hope." He studied me for a moment. "At the beginning of the century-" he looked amused at my incredulous look-he looked twenty years old, for God's sake!- "I was in love with a woman named Giselda. It was in Napoleon's time, in France, and she thought she'd surprise me with a visit." He looked away, pain flashing in his gaze. "Her carriage was overtaken by French deserters. When Crispin and I found her, she'd been beaten, raped, and her throat slit."

I was silent. Spade still wouldn't look at me.

I ran my fingers down his shoulder and across his back, wincing when my calluses caught on his scars. He shivered. When I went to withdraw my hand, he caught it and clasped my palm in between his own. "You're bleeding."

I tried to pull my arm back, but he didn't let go. "It's nothing major. They're just dry."

"No lady of this house is allowed to call overworked, bleeding hands 'nothing major'."

A small smile turned up my mouth. "What would I know of rough hands? You're the one who worked in an Australian penal colony."

He sent me an unyielding look, but I detected a trace of a grin. "I wasn't shagging anyone then."

I burst into laughter. "So you're trying to tell me that your skin is just too sensitive to be defiled by my vile claws?"

Spade let out a snort and rolled on top of me. He bent down and our mouths met, and I could taste the blood he'd drawn from his own tongue just moments before. I gathered every drop from his mouth and I felt the cracks on my hands seal, the calluses grow softer.

I pulled away from him. "You don't have to get over her yet, Spade."

He shook his head. "Of course I do. Giselda was a piece of the past. You're the priority in my life now."

I rose up and kissed him again. The shadow on his jaw scratched sensually as his lips trailed down to my throat. My hands roamed over his arms, feeling the tight arrows of muscle that suspended him above me.

"Spade," I whispered, "Will you ever have to drink my blood?"

His reply was muffled as he sucked a bruise to my collarbone. "Only if you want me to."

I shivered. "What does it feel like?"

Spade raised his head. His irises were almost pure green and I could see his fangs as he spoke. "I honestly couldn't tell you. I've personally never been bitten with a pleasurable intention before." He returned to my throat and his tongue brushed against my pulse. "Though we could find out, if you want."

I tangled my fingers in his hair; I was sure he could smell the nervousness on me. "I trust you."

His fangs brushed my skin in a flash; razor sharp knives that pierced it in barely a second. I gasped at the moment of pain, then moaned when it melted into the hottest pleasure I'd felt in my life.

Every draw he took of my blood seemed to push the heat further into me. I could feel myself getting lightheaded, though I couldn't bring myself to care. My fingers dug into his shoulders, clutching him closer, and when I felt his fingers at my core, I almost tumbled over the edge.

He pulled away, and I cried out at the feeling of loss that overcame me. I opened my eyes to find him licking the last of my wetness off of his fingers. His eyes glowed vibrant green and his fangs were tinged red.

"If you ever do that again," I growled at him, trying to glare through the haze of blood loss, "I swear, I'll-"

"Cut my bollocks off? Where would that get you? They'd just grow back, anyway."

I shook my head at him sleepily. "Damn you…" I trailed off.

"Oh, you're not sleeping. Come on. This isn't over." He kissed me again, and I tasted both his blood and mine, and felt immediately alert.

"You not only heal me, but you give me blood as well?"

"That's how it works. And here I've got a problem to address." I tried to ignore his hand sliding down my stomach, his velvety, steel-hard cock pressing against my thigh. "_That's _the most pleasure you ever felt? If I'd known that, last night would have gone much differently."

I groaned. "I said that out loud?"

"Sure enough, love." Spade's head ducked as his hands went back to work at my soaked folds and his mouth ravished my breasts. I could feel his long fingers pump in and out of me, his teeth nipping slightly, sending bolts of bliss to my core.

**Spade**

She swore when she felt him moving down her body. He could still taste her sweet, hot blood in his mouth and relished it, remembering her trembling, moaning form under him as he drank.

Spade's first direct taste of her was almost as good as her blood. He made a slow path through the petals of her center and felt her, rather than heard her, cry out. He could feel her get closer to the edge, and increased the pace of his mouth. Lia's fingers pulled on his hair, and he thrust his tongue up into her channel. His teeth closed lightly on her clit, and she moaned wildly as she came, her voice rising to almost a scream.

Spade went back up Lia's body again, pressing his hardness at her wetness. "Close, Spade," she panted, "but if you're aiming for what it felt like earlier, it's going to get a little more difficult for you."

"Harder, as well," he said, grinning, and his smile widened along with her eyes as he pressed slightly into her. "But believe me: that was mostly for my own benefit."

"And did it live up to your expectations?"

"More than you can imagine."

**Lia**

Spade thrust into me in the next second, creating the smallest flash of pain, despite the slick of honey that coated my center. I tried to stifle a moan, remembering that most of Spade's household staff would be rising just about now, but he set me right. "Sod them all," he whispered in my ear in between deep, piercing thrusts into me. "I don't care if they want to listen. You're mine and I'm yours. It's simple as that."

I moaned and bit into his taut, sinewy shoulder as the pressure built inside me, rising even more intense than the heat that had been caused by his bite. I gasped in a rising sigh and he growled in my ear as I felt his body tense with each powerful push in and out of me.

Spade bent down and kissed me, our tongues tangling and lingering with the taste of each other's blood. I tasted myself, in both blood and essence, on his mouth as he sucked my bottom lip. His teeth nipped at the skin, nearly drawing more blood.

I was sure he could feel me getting closer to my climax. My ankles hooked around his hips, pulling us closer together, and my fingernails dug into his back. Spade shuddered and pushed simultaneously into me and backwards into my hands, almost like a cat. He thrust harder and harder, his pace increasing so that I nearly saw stars. The bliss threatened to wash over me, like a tidal wave being held back by nothing but a wall of sand.

When it broke through, I bit down on my own lip so as not to scream. Spade buried himself inside me with one last hard thrust, groaning his release, and I realized too late that I had almost bitten straight through my own lip.

Spade rolled off me, and I was certain that if he'd had to breathe, he would have been panting along with me. We glanced over at each other and I saw him look at my ruined lip, with blood trailing down my chin. He laughed slightly and bit his own tongue. I sucked the blood off of it for the third time that morning and felt the rents in my lip close.

I made to get up and cleaned off, but Spade's hand on my stomach stopped me. He pressed me back to the bed and leaned over.

I stiffened when I felt him begin to lap the blood off my chin and neck. I could feel his smile against my skin and started giggling slightly when he hit a ticklish spot under my jaw.

Spade shifted around, licking up every last bit of blood until I began to think of the dogs that lapped at the puddles of rainwater in the Whitechapel streets. Only, this one was much more well-groomed.

He returned to the spot that I'd laughed at and continued to lick and nip and suck at it until I was so consumed with laughter that I had to roll away, batting him to my back.

"Ah," he sighed, still grinning, "You love it."

"You know," I said, still laughing, "I never know I was ticklish before that."

"I have discovered something new!" he jumped up and went to his wardrobe. I stretched back in the bed and enjoyed the view of his naked body as he searched for something to wear.

I swore suddenly. Spade was turned around in an instant, searching for a threat. "What is it?"

I waved off his concern. "I just don't have anything to wear. You took off my dress in your study."

"No worries. Alten had Emma move your wardrobe to the closet over there." He nodded his head to an inconspicuous door I hadn't noticed yet. "He thought we might need it."  
>I got up. "I love Alten, you know that?"<p>

He sent me a stern look. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

I faked an innocent face and whistled slightly.

He turned back to his wardrobe, selected a tasteful combination of shirt and breeches and dressed swiftly. I rummaged around and found a sapphire silk gown with bronze braid and back buttons, something I could finally wear now that I had someone to do them up. I stepped into the skirt and petticoats and pulled the bodice up. "Spade, will you help…?"

He got behind me and I expected to feel the buttons fastening around my camisole, but instead I felt his lips on my bare skin.

"Spade!" I swatted him away and spun around.

He had a devilish look about him. "Sorry, love," he said, though he didn't look sorry at all. I turned around again and shivered when his cool hands brushed my back on their way up.

When we were both finally dressed, he took me by the shoulders and whispered in my ear. "We're resuming work on Baker tomorrow. It's a job at the bank." I nodded, and we left the room together.

I could have sworn Alten had the smallest smile on his face when we passed him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey guys. It might be another chapter until you get the epic bank story in which the romance is revealed and so for now we get another chapter of happiness (ish) and sexiness. Which means Spade. He's generally the definition of those two mixed together. Some drama here or there as well, with a side dish of crap-tons of POV switches.**

**Also, if you're a Cassandra Clare fan (as I well am) you'll notice a few more than a few descriptions of Seamus and Charlie matching Jem and Will. I just finished the Clockwork Princess today (after eight and a half hours straight of reading and squealing) and I felt I owed them both a tribute. Plus, I kept accidentally calling Lia "Tessa," which is the name of the main character of another of my fics, but I don't think that was my subconscious's reasoning here.**

* * *

><p><strong>Spade POV<strong>

He walked with Lia down the thickly carpeted hallway and into the kitchen. His hands, one resting gently at the small of her back, were warmer than usual, his body filled with her sweet, hot blood. Her stomach growled and she blushed.

A plate lay on the table, still hot, but Henry was absent. Spade leaned against the counter as Lia ate.

"You're not hungry, right?" She looked up at him, a small smile on her lips.

"Far from it. Though I'm guessing what made me full is what's making you so ravenous."

"I thought you were going to say empty, and that's definitely the wrong word, Spade."

He laughed quietly. "You certainly didn't look empty." Lia blushed deeper and bit her lip. "Beautifully so."

"You're not so bad yourself. But what's the plan for tomorrow?"

"You'll play the part of yet another one of Baker's whores." Pain and anger flashed through Spade at the thought of Lia pretending to be someone other than his. "Sid acquired some of his account information while you were in Nottingham, and I've forged some documents saying he owes you money. They'll let you into his account, and you'll look for any information that proves this case against him. If all goes well, you'll be in and out in half an hour. We'll be waiting for you in a carriage on the corner."

"And if something goes wrong?"

"If something goes wrong, say it out loud. Both Crispin and I will be in the carriage and listening for anything you say. Chances are we'll be able to hear it and do something about it." Lia sighed, a little thing that made her look like the most vulnerable person Spade had ever seen. "What is it, love?"

"I'm just tired of it. I've lived my entire life trying to stay out of trouble and now my entire livelihood depends on whether or not I can find some."

Spade walked around the table and lifted Lia to stand in front of him. "I won't let you give this up. This is how I met you and I will see you finish it out to the end. But I promise, once this is over, you'll never have to step foot into Whitechapel again."

He could see her blink back tears. _No, no NO. _"It's not that I don't want to go back to Whitechapel – I might have even developed some sort of fondness for it." At his incredulous look, she backtracked. "I don't want to live there, believe me. But I can't leave it the way it is and suddenly be like those rich snobs we used to see slumming through the streets."

"Lia, listen. You don't have to forget about it. In fact, I don't think I'd love you the way I do if you did. But you don't deserve to live there. You deserve more than I can give you, but I'm hoping you'll accept what I can."

She met his eyes. "You don't know how much you've given me already."

Lia's lips met his, a soothing reprieve from the tension that had been coiling in his stomach. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands set on her hips. Their bodies pressed more tightly together and his fingers slipped through the small gaps between her buttons. She shivered and Spade groaned against her mouth at the feeling of her skin on his hands. He lifted her onto the table and ran his hand up her smooth leg, her skirt hitching up to her thighs.

She tore her mouth away from his, gasping, and his lips slid down her throat to fasten under her ear in a way that made her moan deliciously.

"I want to give you everything," he whispered roughly into her ear, his hands caressing her skin. "And if that means that I'll have to keep living after you leave me, so be it."

Lia's eyes shot open and she yanked away from him, the sudden cold a shock to Spade's body.

"If you are truly speaking of…" Lia's wide eyes refused to meet his and Spade cursed himself for his moment of loose-tonguedness. She started to stumble towards the door, cheeks still flushed.

"Lia, wait. I only meant…"

"I don't think either of us knew what you meant, Spade. I have to think."

Spade swore viciously under his breath as he watched her sapphire skirts fall back down and swirl out the door.

**Lia POV**

There had been something binding in Spade's words, something that made her realize that she was mortal, he was not.

What was this relationship they had? Was it nothing more than a few casual pity screws? A block of ice dropped through her gut at this thought. Did she really mean nothing more to Spade than a means to sex?

But if she did, if she meant more, then he must realize her eventual death. That even if she agreed to living out her life with him (and that would require her love for him, a subject she had to think about later), he would keep living even after she died, and he would stay young as she grew old and grey. Surely he didn't feel so little for her to live through an entire life with her and immediately move on when she died.

Lia climbed and climbed to the widow's walk where Spade had found her the night he made his decision. How ironic it was now for it to be called a widow's walk, when what she was contemplating was eventually making a widower of Spade.

But was she really thinking of marriage?

The fog seemed to climb closer to her, through her thoughts, and clouded her head until there was nothing but confusion and sadness swimming through her previously lust-hazed mind. Was it lust or love? Lifetime commitment or marriage? Both? Neither?

Would Lia really allow herself to selfishly spend her life with a man that may or may not love her, just to die and leave him mourning and full of grief when he could be searching at this moment for a woman that would be able to make him happy for his entire, long, long life?

"Oy, Lia."

She spun around to see a figure there on the walk behind her. "Charlie," she greeted him, and turned back around, watching the drifting cloud around her.

"Mr. DeMortimer said I could find you up here. You've got something on your mind."

"Yeah, I do," Lia sighed, traces of her Whitechapel accent coming out in her weariness. "But never mind that. I've hardly seen you in ages. What's going on with you and Sid and Seamus and Addie and Mr. Mason?"

"Mr. Mason's part of the reason I'm here. He's taking a break and leaving tomorrow to see his sister. He wants to see you before he goes."

"He'll be back, won't he?"

"Sure he will. But there's hardly anything he's doing now, what with Mr. DeMortimer and that Bones fellow."

"And you? I hope you're not bored."

Charlie moved to lean on the railing beside her, his body far taller and more muscular than Lia remembered, his voice lower. "Oh, no. Far from it. Seamus and I find a different creek every day and sometimes Alten lets us ride the horses. We've been busy with the information Sid brought us while you were gone, as well."

"What does Sid do all day?"

"He reads, mostly. Mr. DeMortimer's got a library the size of our house in Whitechapel. Sometimes he goes out riding with Seamus and me."

Lia sighed again; she was pained at the idea that she now knew so little of the lives of these boys. "Any girls?" She smiled cheekily at Charlie when he blushed.

"Well, there is this one that lives just down the road."

"What's her name?"

"Viola."

"That's a very pretty name. How are you two getting on?"  
>"That's none of your business," Charlie grumbled, but a grudging smile split his face. "It's also nothing compared to what seems to be going on with you and Mr. DeMortimer."<p>

Lia was horrified. "How did you find out?"

"Well, it was almost easy before you left, what with Archer…" He trailed off, uncomfortable, until Lia motioned for him to continue. "The way left the funeral like he couldn't bear to look at you. Or how he went back out to fetch you, with us being all out of sorts."

"What else?"  
>A tiny, mischievous grin lit up Charlie's face, even in the gloom. "You returned yesterday afternoon, but we didn't see you until this morning. Alten said you had retired early, but…"<p>

Lia gasped when she realized what he was talking about. "You little- I can't believe- this is-" she sputtered for a few moments until she finally settled on what she deemed a reasonable argument. "You are too young to know about things like that!"

The grin widened. "Blame Sid."

"Oh, I most certainly will! But first, does anyone else know?"

He shook his head. "Don't think so. I was watching closer than anyone else, though."

"You are too perceptive for your age, Charlie Briscal."

He burst out laughing. "I haven't heard anyone call me that in a long time."

"It almost works with rascal. Charlie Rascal. I think that fits much better."

"And Lexington can become Se-"

"Charlie!" Lia smacked him and chased him as he ran back inside, through the luxurious hallways of the house.

"Lexington, Lexington," Charlie called as she pursued him. "Lexington has lots of –"

She tackled him and clapped a hand over his mouth.

**Spade POV**

Despite his increasingly black mood through the day, Spade couldn't help but smile when he heard Lia chasing Charlie through the hallways. The boy's song, which was completely fitting for a child of his age, echoed through the house until it was cut off suddenly, followed by a thump and muffled laughter.

Poor boy, Spade thought. He never stood a chance.

He heard Mr. Mason open the door near where Lia was wrestling with Charlie and ask, "Lia, do you have a sec?"

Charlie seemed to have freed himself just enough to mutter between laughs, "Yeah, she has lots of secs."

At this, Spade had to stifle a laugh. Charlie's comment seemed to go unnoticed by Mr. Mason though, because after a second thump and an awkward pause only permeated by Charlie's intermittent sniggers, Lia said, "Sure," and followed Mr. Mason into the dining room.

He turned his attention back to his work then; only pausing to hear Charlie, still panting, warn Sid that he was in for it later and run off to the stables.

This house was really more interesting when it had other occupants in it, Spade thought. And a hell of a lot more distracting. His work, minute problems and complaints that were sent to him as Master of the line, paled in comparison to his guests. But, coward that he was, Spade stayed in his study until well after Henry announced supper.

**Lia POV**

The conversation with Mr. Mason was an awkward one. They spoke of her job, her training, and her return from Nottingham. He was anxious, she realized, to make her understand that his trip to see his sister was not as selfish as it seemed, and he apologized to her over and over for leaving on the day of an important job.

She reassured him that she would be fine and bid him a good journey, as he would be leaving at dawn the next morning. She said to tell his sister hello for him. His sister was a kind woman she remembered meeting many years ago, and wondered if she would remember Lia as well.

Neither Spade nor Bones were at supper, though she had hardly expected them to show up. Henry had procured a magnificent cut of lamb for them as farewell to Mr. Mason for the next few weeks.

"You know, Mr. Mason," Seamus said between bites, "This almost makes me glad you're leaving. Almost."

Sid admonished him for this, but Mr. Mason, used to Seamus's frankness, laughed. "Me too, Seamus. Really makes the goodbyes sweeter."

Lia cut playful glares at Charlie the entire time, anticipating the beginning of a conversation that would lead to her having to say, _No, of course I don't know what Charlie meant by that. _And,_ I completely didn't notice that 'Lexington' rhymes with 'Sextington.' _But it seemed that the boy's song had gone unnoticed, at least, by the mortal occupants of the house.

And the immortal ones, well, it wasn't as if they didn't already know that Lexington had lots of Sexington.

A smile spread unwillingly across her face when this thought sprang into her head. Charlie might make a true poet someday, if he learned to let go of his raunchiness. But as a boy with a face like his, all pure black hair and strangely clear blue eyes, she somehow doubted the girls would let him become a sensitive recluse. His slight Welsh accent might even add some sort of mystery to the romance. No doubt poor Viola would be sitting with her friends some day, speaking of how she knew the real Charlie Briscal, before he became famous. The first Charlie Briscal.

"What are you grinning at, Lia?" Sid leaned over the table at her.

Charlie spoke before she could. "Her meat must be telling her great tales. What's it saying, Lia? I want to know."

"Only that it's planning to get stuck going down your neck before the end of the meal, Charlie dearest."

"Oh, that will be exciting. Stories will be bursting straight from my throat! People will tell tales of Charlie the Wondrous Raconteur, who couldn't breathe but could spout a yarn before the children had the chance to ask for one!"

"Where on earth did you learn that word?" Seamus snorted, his pitch-colored, silver-streaked hair falling into his black eyes. Lia regarded him. Something had happened before he had mysteriously appeared at the Whitechapel house that had made parts of his hair turn silver. Nobody had bothered to ask him, since every time the mention of his past turned up in the conversation, his face closed down.

His violin was the only thing that had showed up with him, something that seemed as natural on his body as his clothes did. Occasionally, the high melody had echoed through the thin, drafty walls. The violin had come with him from Whitechapel, but Lia hadn't heard him play in ages.

"Seamus," she said, interrupting the bickering between the two boys, "Will you play for us tonight?"

"Er, sure. My violin's a bit out of tune, though, so I'll go grab it now." He dashed off.

Mr. Mason smiled. "I haven't heard Seamus play in a long time. This will be even a sweeter farewell than the lamb. That was amazing, though," he said, nodding to Henry, who was coming out of the kitchen with dessert. Henry nodded back and set a great tureen of something on the table. Lia almost laughed when she recognized it.

Butterscotch ice cream. It seemed as though Spade had quite a way of apologizing.

With Seamus's playing still echoing in her ears, Lia made her way back up to her rooms. Her recollection of the beautiful notes reached a crescendo as she stopped on the stairway. She could go straight to her bed, happy with the sweet taste that still graced her mouth, or she could go to Spade's rooms, where he doubtlessly was, and work this mortality business out.

Her mind made an unconscious decision and continued up the stairs to stop in front of one of the doors at the end of the hallway. Her hand rose to knock, but before her knuckles could hit the wood, the door opened.

"Lia, I thought I heard you out here." Spade's hair was messy, as though his hands had been running through it all day. She knew hers had, at least this morning. "Is there something you need?"

"I wanted to apologize. For running off this morning. And I wanted to thank you."

A confused look drifted over Spade's face as he stepped aside, letting her in. "What for? I did nothing but scare you."

"No, you opened my eyes. To what could happen. To what needs to happen. To what I had been ignoring, and what I couldn't forget." She crossed the room and sat in an armchair. "And, of course, you had Henry make butterscotch ice cream."

He smiled. "I had hoped you would notice. I'm sorry for this morning. I was careless; I said things in the wrong order."

Lia looked him in the eye. "Spade, something will come out of this. Whatever it is we feel for each other, it's going to end painfully."

"I don't think we're seeing this situation the same way. Tell me why."

"Because if you do feel something for me, we can live together through my life. But I'll die, you know that. And you'll be left with nothing but an old body and wasted years. And if you don't feel anything for me, the pain will be all mine when we part."

In barely a second, Spade was kneeling in front of her. "Never," he whispered, cradling her face, "Never would I contemplate leaving you. And as I so stupidly said this morning, if I get to spend a lifetime with you, it would be worth the pain when you left me. If that's what you chose."

"How could I choose that?" Lia's eyes were beginning to fill, and she blinked the tears back. "How can I choose a life with you when I know what you will feel when I die? When I'm old, nothing more than a husk keeping you from having a real life?"

"You are not nothing. You are everything. I keep telling you I love you, slips of my tongue that make me realize you may not feel the same way. But I do, Lia. I love you."

His words hit her like a bolting horse. He did love her, and she could neither bear to set him up for the inescapable sorrow he'd feel at the end of her life nor leave him to protect him from it. "I can't," she cried, sinking to her knees next to him. "I can't let you do this."

"Do what?" his voice was bewildered as he wiped her tears away. "It's my choice, love, and I choose you. There's no question of it."

"You've felt how it is to lose someone." She tried to keep eye contact. "I can't let you do it again. I can't be responsible for that." Despite her best efforts, a tear trickled down her face.

Spade drew her into his arms with a gentleness that made more salty drops come down her face. "Understand me, love. Please." Lia tried to choke back a sob. His voice, so soft, begged her to listen. "There is nothing that would scare me more than our time cut shorter than it has to be. I know you're thinking you could leave, to try to protect me. And that is one of the stupidest, bravest, noblest things anyone could do. But please, please, don't do that. If I knew that you had left because of me…it may hurt more than knowing that I could never see you again." Another cry ripped its way out of Lia's throat, though she tried to repress it. Spade's arms tightened around her and he framed her face in his hands. "And if anyone ever makes you hurt the same way you are now, I will kill them. Viciously. I'm the reason you're like this now, and I'll be damned if anybody makes it happen again."

She laughed, an odd noise mixed with a hiccup, and buried her face in Spade's shoulder. His lips descended upon her hair and his hands stroked up and down her arms. "You're mad, Spade. It's amazing."

"It's a special talent. Once someone is transformed into a vampire, they feel a fierce, almost animalistic, possessiveness and protectiveness over anything or anyone they deem theirs."

"So I'm yours?" Her voice was not entirely pleased.

"Of course you are. Completely and entirely mine and your own."

"If I'm yours, you're mine."

"I thought we had established that. You're too headstrong to ever really belong to anyone, but I am completely in your hands."

Lia laughed shortly and brushed her lips against Spade's. "I've said it already: you're completely mad."

Spade growled and pressed his mouth harder to hers. "I might be mad, but I don't give up easily."

Their tongues met at the seam of her mouth and she moaned, enjoying the feel of him where they had left off this morning. His hands cradled her face and wove into her hair and his mouth explored hers with a necessity that sent shivers through her body.

Lia's fingers hooked at the neck of his shirt and began to undo his buttons. His skin, heated from its contact with hers, felt like silk under her hands and when the cotton finally fell from his back, she traced it all over, across the raised scars that remained from his days in Australia.

These simple touches seemed to light a fire within Spade and he groaned. When Lia, mistaking the sound for pain, stilled her hands, he growled against her throat. "You had better not stop doing that, or I swear I'll tie you to this bed."

His mouth reclaimed hers in the next second, so her sound of surprise couldn't be heard, and her hands continued to stroke over the sensitive scars. It seemed as though he couldn't get enough of her hands on his back, and shudders continued to wrack him as his lips explored as much of Lia as her dress would allow. Finally, he raised his hands and captured her wrists faster than she could realize he was moving. Without parting his mouth from her skin, he sat her upon the bed and set her hands in her lap.

"Don't move."

Another shiver ran through her at his words, at the sudden cold that she felt at her front. Spade stepped away from her, his eyes pure green and surveying her with a desire that she had never seen before. He was naked from the waist up and she could see, deeply shadowed and emphasized by the dim light in the room, the muscle cording his torso and arms. When he opened his mouth, she could see his fangs, white and lethal.

He moved around behind her, taking in every detail, every nuance that her gown still hid. She could barely keep from turning her head to follow him as he reached her back. When she felt his warm hands on her shoulders, she jumped.

"Shh." His lips had returned to the back of her neck, and his hands dipped lower, undoing the buttons he had so reluctantly done up this morning. Lia could barely keep her hands where he had placed them.

"Spade," she whispered. "Please. Let me feel you."

His hands pushed the gown off her shoulders and he pushed her to standing. The silk, along with her chemise, fell to the ground. "Wait," he said roughly, and his mouth dipped lower, along her back, and around her side. Her eyes drifted shut and his lips traveled back up her body, through the valley between her breasts, and back up to her throat. He placed a trail of kisses up to her mouth, and finally upon it, just as his fingers pierced her center.

Lia's hands flew to his shoulders in an effort to keep herself upright at the shock. His trousers had made it to the floor with the rest of their clothing and she could feel his cock pressing at her even as his fingers moved inside her.

Spade guided her to the bed, not stopping the rhythm that had pleasure shattering through her. When it finally peaked and she cried out in bliss, she found him kneeling over her, braced by his arms.

"Spade," she said quietly. "Do you really want this?" She was asking about more than sex, and he knew.

He closed his eyes for a second, and his gaze was pure tiger when he opened them again. "For this," he said roughly, but clearly, "I would be damned a thousand times. For this, I would give up my entire life but with you."

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><p><strong>so, what do you think? yeah, I got a lot here from the clockwork princes.. gosh that's an amazing book. But really, what did you think? was spade too gooey? too animalistic? Is Lia too able to fall into bed with Spade? what about the story overall?<strong>


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